The sound of chairs squeaking into place scratched though the silence of the new morning. 

Minseok had first shift. Unfortunately, that meant he also had the duty of taking down chairs and putting them in their designated places, starting up the machines, making sure the assorted beans were all accounted for, and setting out all the little pastries they sold on the side. Minseok had to do all this at the -crack of dawn, before the sun was even up. 

However, as he glided behind the front counter, Minseok found himself basking in his job. He loved the warmth. Being an all day coffee shop, it got hot with all the steam and hot coffee. Even the shop itself had large floor to ceiling windows that over looked the sunrise every morning. At varying times, the rays of sunlight would warm up the small shop. The orange hues would light up the tan booths and highlight the soft yellow pillows. Even the cherrywood chairs and tables preened under the sunrise. 

Minseok settled into his high rise chair and sipped his own coffee. The real breakfast rush wouldn't begin until around seven, so he had a good hour before he really needed to be on his feet. The atmosphere was so calm, he probably could've fallen back asleep. Humoring himself, he closed his eyes and leaned back. 

Ding 

Minseok looked up to see a woman walk in. He furrowed his brow. Sure, there were always people who came in before the breakfast rush, but this seemed extremely early. Nevertheless,  Minseok put on a lopsided smile and stood. 

The woman walked straight to the counter. Minseok had to admit she was stunningly beautiful. She was petite, but looked confident. Caramel colored hair cascaded just past her chin and it curled at the ends. She wore a wine red suit with an A line skirt and black pumps. Her lips were a few shades lighter than her clothes. 

Minseok guessed she was a business woman of some sort. 

"Good morning, what can I get you?" He smiled. 

The woman only smiled, a small chuckle left her lips. She tilted her head to the side and gave Minseok a look akin to one you give a child. Patronizing and as if Minseok understood nothing. 

His smile became a bit more forced, "Ma'am? Can I get you anything-" 

"Ice coffee." 

Minseok was so stunned she actually spoke, he didn't even catch what she wanted. "I-I'm sorry...what do y-you want?" 

She raised her hand to mouth as she let out a giggle, but it felt more rude than forgiving. "Ice coffee. That is what I said." Her voice silky and smooth. 

"I-uhm...o-right away," he bowed awkwardly and got to work to making something so simple. Her way of speaking intrigued him. She had every accent imaginable, yet she spoke with perfect grammar and even sounded formal. 

Minseok capped her coffee and tapped in her order into register. 

"That'll be ten dollars, please," he said politely. 

She handed him a ten dollar bill exactly and he bowed once again. Her manicured hands wrapped around the cold cup of caffeine. She took one long sip and bowed just as gracefully as he had. Her heels clicked against the floor while she sauntered out. 

She stopped at the door, "Thank you, Minseok." she walked out. 

Minseok nodded jerkily. He always felt weird when customers said his name. Not because he didn't like it, but because he didn't know them. They had no relation to him. He lifted his hand to straighten his name tag, a nervous habit he had. 

Only problem was he hadn't put it on yet. 

He patted around his chest. Nope, he had most definitely forgotten to pin it on. In a state of shock,  he made a full three-sixty. He looked around for anything that had his name. Anything that had given this woman even a hint at who he was. 

There were none. 

Minseok couldn't tell if it was his fear or the thermostat,  but the room felt ten degrees colder. His teeth chattered. "What the hell..." He skidded around the room and checked the thermostat. It said it was a comfortable seventy-two. Minseok felt like he was comfortably freezing in a blizzard. He cranked up the heat. Every minute that went by, the room got colder and colder. At this point, the entire shop should have been on fire, Minseok turned the heat up so high. 

It only got colder. 

Minseok ran to the front door, feeling more than threatened. The nanosecond before Minseok's hand met the handle, thick, frosty ice spread over the whole door. His finger accidently tapped it and it felt like his whole hand had frost bite. He yanked it back and cradled his fingers. 

The ice started spreading. It made cracking and creaking noises as it climbed the walls. It covered the soft booths and knocked over chairs. The shop was quickly dwindling into the single digits. Minseok felt his lips start chapping. He was sure frost was even setting into his eyelashes. Snow fell from the ceiling, the once warm and calm atmosphere was wintery and pale.

He stumbled into the storage room. Easily the hottest place in the entire building on a good day. He slammed the door closed and sat himself next to the coffee beans.His back slid down the far wall. A naive part of him actually felt relieved. He stopped shaking so bad and leaned back on the wall. He couldn't hear the cracking of ice anymore. 

The calm was short lived. 

Hopeless tears welled in his eyes as ice pried it's way through the door. The sad part was that it hadn't even creep up on him, Minseok had done nothing to stop it. Couldn't have done anything to stop it. 

The tears that rolled down his cheeks felt like the were ice against his chill skin. The ice that crawled the walls finally came within an inch of him and the second it touched the back of his neck, he was gone. 

I drew you in closer with all I had. Now I can't turn it back. 

The soccer ball bounced off the wall. 

Bounce. Hit. Ow. Bounce. Hit. Ow. Bounce. Hit. OW! 

Luhan rubbed his head. Waiting for soccer season to start back up was no easy feat. the soccer ball rolled out of his dorm and into the hallway. Instead of retreating it, he walked to the bathroom. The loud music he played throughout his room became muffled. 

The mirror smiled back at him. His doe eyes sparkled, even in pain, and his blond hair shined. However, now there was a nasty bruise right next to his right eye. He, being an idiot, poked it with his finger. As if it didn't exist without it hurting more. 

"Stupid ball, ruining my best feature here..." he mumbled. He dug a bandage out of the drawer and placed it right on the bruise. He admired himself once more before going and retrieving his ball. 

The hallway was mostly empty. It was still barely sunrise, so many students were still sleeping or drinking. Still, there was one girl out. She was several feet down the hall, but held Luhan's soccer ball in her hands. 

"H-hey!" He called, still trying not to disturb anyone, "That's my ball!" 

The girl turned. She looked liked the average college girl. Long black hair tied back into a pony tail, large college sweatshirt three times too big and pajama shorts. Her glasses were a little off skew, but she smiled all the same and held out the ball. 

Luhan jogged over and bowed. "Ah, thank you! Have a good morning, yeobo," Luhan smiled inwardly. He still had to be charming, keep up his rep. 

The girl laughed and kept the ball firmly in her grasp. Luhan gave a chuckle too, assuming she was being bashful. It was when she placed her hand on Luhan's cheek that he crossed the line. 

He laughed awkwardly, "Heh, uhm..." he went to grab her wrist, she slapped him away. 

Now, Luhan had had enough. 

"Look, I just want my ball back." 

She said nothing. Her fingers slid up until they brushed his bandage. Then, a feral smile contorted her face. She looked nothing less of evil and Luhan wanted to just run away. But her hand a had a vice grip on his face. He got the feeling he should have just donated his ball to the hallway. 

Her finger started to push on his bruise. He cringed from pain. He even whined. "St-stop! Ah-ahahahah- that hurts!" The girl just pushed and pressed until Luhan thought he might start bleeding. 

The girl giggled once more and her smile returned to sweet. Her hand popped away from his face and she handed his soccer ball back. Too terrified to catch it, Luhan let it drop to the floor. His eyes were saucers while she walked away, casually swinging her arms back and forth. 

She turned the corner and Luhan bolted. Soccer ball forgotten, he ran to exit the dorm house. On his swift journey, he heard alarm clocks going off and people tossing cookies. Peoples voices were impossibly loud and he wasn't even hungover. 

Luhan just needed to get some fresh air. He needed to breathe in general. He threw open the double doors and stumbled outside. people walked to class, walked their pets, and made the walk of shame. 

Suddenly everything was deafening. 

I'm gonna be late! Goddam- 

I can't believe I had with him- 

WHERE IS MY PHONE- 

Do I have enough money for lunch- 

Ugh, Mr. Kim is such a- 

Dontletmomknowyoufaileddontletmomkn-

Coffee! Oh, I forgot- 

Luhan covered his ears. So many voices spoke all at once. He fell to his knees. He looked up, but no one was talking. Some of them were shy whispers, but others were screams. Luhan sank to the ground and cried out. "Shut up! Just shut! Up!" People steered clear of him on the sidewalk. The voices amplified. 

Luhan looked up and saw red. Why was he even angry? It didn't matter, he felt crazy and people thought he was crazy, so maybe he was. 

The statue of the founder that stood in the middle of the campus square ripped off its hinges and fell to the ground. Students screamed and ran, morons walked up to it. When people yelled, so did their mind. Dozens of voices all yelped and screamed at once. He felt like his ears blew out; Luhan passed out. 

 This is clearly a dangerous addiction. So bad, no one can stop her. 

"We'll be arriving in Canada shortly." 

Yifan groaned into his seat. His mother was fast asleep next to him. Most people were asleep. He and his mother had been on the plane for hours and Yifan felt awful. His ears kept popping and gum was starting to make his jaw tired. 

The stewardess' walked up and down isles, handing people their drinks and food. Yifan had already drank several cups Sprite. He was dying to get his seat belt off, after being stuck in it for hours, Yifan was cranky and a sitting time bomb ready to go off on the little girl kicking his seat. 

Yifan screeched inside his head. He had gotten the feeling. It was getting worse, but he refused to be 'that guy'. Though, five minutes later, he was tapping his sleeping mother. He told her he was gonna stretch his legs. In her dreamy state, she only nodded and fell back asleep. 

He undid his seat belt, thank god, and walked to nearest stewardess he saw. She was tall in her white heels, something Yifan could appreciate with his height. She turned towards him before he said anything. Her uniform was a creamy white blouse and sky blue skirt. Her hair was long, it flowed past her abdomen and brushed her waist. Her eyes were bright with darker lids and plump lips. 

Kris cleared his throat, it had been awhile since he used it. "Uh-Can I use the bathroom?" 

Her lips smile delicately and her small hand gestured behind him. Down the long isle at the back, was the mini-bathroom. He bowed and said his thanks. She just smiled back. He thought it a little weird she didn't speak, but he had one goal and it was demanding. 

He somehow, don't ask him how, was able to squeeze himself into the small 'room'. He quickly releived himself and began to wash his hands. The plane hit a patch of turbulence and shook slightly. Yifan gripped the sink. As much as he wanted to stay with his mother in Canada, he detested flying. Nothing like being held in a flying death trap over an ocean.  

He shook his head and continued to wash his hands. Until the plane hit more turbulence,  this time the craft jerked so hard, Yifan was thrown into the door. 

"Jesus..." he mumbled to himself. His left arm was now sore and his psyche was severely terrified. A younger part of himself wanted to cuddle up next to his mother. Mother made everything barable. Another part of him just wanted to curl into a ball. 

The door swung open and once again hit him in the arm. He hissed and scooted back. Yifan was ready to snap at the person who so rudely interrupted him. He stopped short, though. 

It was the little girl who kept kicking his seat. He glared, over twenty years old, but not above putting a ten year old in her place. 

"Go away, go back," he sneered, "You shouldn't be up without your parents, little demon." 

She giggled, her crooked teeth clicked. Her hair was curly and a downright mess. He tiny child hands twisted around each other while she laughed, like a villian. Yifan was unbelievably done with her. 

He sighed heavily, "Excuse me."

He tried to push past her, but the plane jerked and he was knocked into the sink. His waist twisted in pain. His vision was blurry, but he could hear the girl clearly laughing at him. He was doubled over, holding his stomach and the bruises forming. 

The plane was loosing it's mind. Yifan couldn't find the strength to pull himself up. The girl put her chubby hands on his cheeks and squeezed them. He was about to pull away, but she leaned in and kissed him on the nose. 

Bang! 

A woman screamed and metal clunked harshly. Yifan blinked and the girl was gone, but it was the least of his worries. He was from the bathroom. Literally. The air lock had been broken and seat were being pulled out with a vicious force. 

Yifan screamed for his mother, he wanted to know if she was okay. He never got an answer as the actual metal of the plane started to pull and curl off. He saw an elderly be vacuumed up and out of the plane while he screamed his head off.

Yifan latched onto a seat that was still screwed onto the plane. The pilots were shouting into the intercom, the only people there to hear it was Yifan and the pilots themselves. The wind blew straight into his eyes and tiny tears prickled. 

Finally, his strength broke and he was forced to let go. 

He was flung out the gaping hole like a rag doll. He was falling back first. The harsh wind whipped his blond hair at his face. His stomach dropped at least three times and he couldn't breathe. Bits and peices of plane fell past him. The falling sensation was even worse when he felt the very same stewardess grab his foot while she fell, he hadn't meant to kick her hand off, but she had scared him. Yifan fell faster and now he was forced to watch a woman fall to her death. 

Where was mom? He could hear anything but a crashing plane and he couldn't see anything except an annoying happy, blue sky.

Somewhere in his mind was himself muttering 'this is it. That water is gonna kill you.' 

He screwed his eyes shut. He didn't want to see himself die, not that he wanted to die at all. Yifan let out a breath and let himself fall. His jacket's zipper smacked him painfully in the stomach, agitating his new bruises. 

It didn't seem to matter, though. He was about to die anyway. 

hehehehehehe 

There it was. That laugh that made his jaw set. He opened his eyes immediately. There she was, falling feet first and dress billowing in the wind. She was practically standing as she fell, she had the utmost grace for a little girl.

Yifan lunged out, angry and sad he had to die. His rage filled him. 

He swung again and he actually moved. He soared against the wind and past debris. Yifan didn't even notice his new found ability. 

The only thing his hand hit was more air. The girl was behind him now. Her little shoe came down on his back. With surprising amount of strength, Yifan was sent flying down. He waved his arms wildly, He was headed straight for a peice of sharp looking metal. Ironically, he could see safety directions painted onto it. 

Little late for that. 

Yifan had no idea how he had been able soar before. So, helplessly, he put his arms out in front of him. His eyes blurred. 

Her love, her love! The only thing I want is her love. 

Everything was white. 

The walls were white, the floor was white, and the doors were white. 

The hospital bed Yixing laid in was adorned in white blankets and pillows. The chairs his grandparents sat in where leathery and worn, but white nevertheless. Even Yixing's skin was white as snow. Years of being deprived of sun made his veins visible and his hair dull. 

However, there was one thing in his room that had color, one thing Yixing was immensely grateful for. 

On the window sill, propping the curtain opens, was a pink little unicorn plushy. Yixing, being sick all his life, once had children visit his hospital room. Kids from his class would come in and say hi and leave him little gifts. Years ago, a girl had dropped off one of her little toys to cheer him up. Yixing had cried so hard, the nurses made the girl leave and he never saw her again. 

Now, he stared at it longingly. Back then, he hadn't been as sick, and could move around. He would walk the hospital halls and speak to the other sick children. But he had gotten worse over the years. Yixing was twenty now and his only friends were his little unicorn and the machine that filled his mask with medicine kept him alive. 

A sad life. A lonely one too. 

He looked past the unicorn and out the window. It was a bright day, the sun was shining down without a cloud in the sky. He made sure the nurses had him sit upright every morning, even if he couldn't feel the breeze on his skin or the sun kissing his face, he wanted to see it. 

It was bittersweet really. 

This was what he did everyday. He woke up, sat up, and breathed. He wasn't even sure when he ate anymore, he just knew he never had an appetite.  

"Are you even alive?" 

Yixing slowly turned his head even though the voice had startled him. A woman stood at the door. She wore a pair of blue scrubs with tiny rainbows printed all over. Her hair was in a blond bob that bounced as she walked over to his bed. 

She sat on the bed with him, but the bed barely moved, like she weighed as much as a feather. 

Yixing tilted his head. He hadn't used his voice in so long. Once they slapped on his face mask, he had just stopped. 

The woman laughed, something screech-like and not at all like her silky voice. "Are you even living? How long have you been cooped up in here?" 

Yixing felt his cheeks heat up, his sickness was nothing to be embarrassed about, but he couldn't help it. 

The woman continued, "When was the last time you even stood up? On your own, I might add." 

Yixing only shook his head. 

"How pathetic." 

That one hit deep. It wasn't Yixing's fault. He was born this way. 

"You'll never had a life," she crooned, "You never did and you'll die before you get to. Why are the machines even on anymore? You're a husk. Your soul must have died long ago, bored and tired trying to keep you alive. I don't blame it. To be hooked up to a machine that keeps a corpse alive and miserable."

Yixing hiccuped on his tears. He tried to say stop, but it came out as stahh- He wanted more than anything to prove her wrong, to prove he had worth. But he didn't. She was exactly right. He was a waste of money that his grandparents didn't have. Yixing was wasting away in some hospital bed that someone else needed more than him. 

He had died so long ago, why was the machine still on? 

"Don't cry," she rested her hand on his. His salty tears streamed past his cheeks as he sobbed. "I can make it all better." She whispered. 

She slid off the bed. Too distracted to look up, Yixing just hunched in on himself and cried. He was winded from just moving on his own.

She looked at him once more, her light pink lips curved into a grin. "I can make it all better." 

dingdingdingdindgindingdingdingdingding-

The machine became loud and shrill. Yixing flinched and gasped. 

She had pulled the plug. 

The vapor-like medicine that was constantly flowing through Yixing's mask stopped abruptly. He couldn't breathe right anymore. Simple breaths turned into rasping chokes. The IV in his arm ceased it's medicine as well and within seconds Yixing felt twenty pounds heavier. 

He gasped and fell onto his back, his eyes were wide as the woman left the room. He whined when the door locked. 

He leveled his gaze on the ceiling. Isn't this what he wanted? If he was honest, he was hoping to go in his sleep. He wanted to leave painlessly and quietly without making a commotion. But he didn't have time to be picky anymore, this was happening now. 

As his mind slowed and his eyes closed, he could have sworn he felt his heart beat. 

Her fatal fantasy. I'm drunk with ecstacy. 

Jongdae couldn't believe his stupidity. 

It was one thing to set up a prank for your teacher at night, so in the morning everything would be ready and you'd be a king to your classmates, but it was a another getting locked inside the college. 

He sat in his psychology professor's chair and spun around. He made little squish noises with his mouth. He was so bored and tired. The janitors were out for the night and due to being a pretty unsuccessful college with no trophies, there were no guards. 

It was a blessing and a curse. 

Sunset was just beginning and Jongdae had already been locked in for two hours. He was starving and cold and the whipped cream he had been using was all gone; the can sat in the trashcan, mocking him. Jongdae hadn't planned on getting stuck. If he had known this would've happened, he would have brought his laptop and blanket. 

A growl of thunder rolled outside and rain started pouring. 

Jongdae pouted at the window. Of course it had to start storming. He would have been fine with it except the school always turned the power off at night to conserve power. Now there was no light, no heat, and, most importantly, no blanket for Jongdae curl up in. 

God bless him, he would never pull a prank again. 

Thunder rumbled a few times before he started wondering around the room. He used the light off his phone as a flashlight. He began with the desk. Jongdae rooted around the drawers, he found graded papers and old gum wrappers. Nothing he didn't expect. 

He came across a locked drawer and he knew he was in business.

With a sense of pure amusement, he d his pocket for something to pick the lock. Jongdae smiled as he pulled out a hairpin. Somewhat of a trophy from his last night of fun, coke-n-Vodka, and bad pick up lines. 

He stuffed the whole hairpin in and juggled it around, hoping to hear a click. He huffed and grumbled when it didn't work the first few tries. After some time and seventeen percent of his battery was wasted, the drawer popped open like a jack-in-the-box. 

"Ohh, baby...there it is..." he cackled. 

The drawer was filled with an assortment of dirty things. Anything and everything from a simple magazine to some poor girl's . He took a pen that had been left on the desk and used it to peek around. Under the was a pack of un-opened condoms. Within the pages of the many magazines were sticky notes with various numbers written on them. He thought he recognized some of them.

Jongdae whistled, "Damn Mr. Jung, you sure get around...how many times have you passed a girl because she gave head? Tsk tsk..." 

As much fun as Jongdae was having, he closed the drawer. He didn't feel like getting Chlamydia through his professor. He did, however, leave it unlocked. Maybe a little incentive for him to pass this semester. 

His phone buzzed. 

5% battery remaining 

" ! Goddammit!" Jongdae slammed his phone down. Now there really was no light. The thunder got louder outside and the rain only poured harder.  

He slumped back into the chair, feeling embarrassed and like an idiot. " me..." 

The building shook from such strong rumbles. He tensed. Jongdae had never had a fear of storms, but this particular one seemed to be a doozy. Something he really didn't appreciate without the comfort of his dorm. 

knock, knock 

Jongdae stood at attention. 

The automatically locked door to the classroom had a visitor. Jongdae's heart sped up. It could have been a robber or murderer or something worse. He grabbed the yardstick that Mr. Jung used to smack the board during lectures. He didn't dare make a sound, he didn't want the murderer to know he was there. 

knock, knock, knock 

They were annoyed now, Jongdae could tell. The kicks came in sets of three. They were becoming frequent and irritated. He swallowed, his eyes were dilated. He held the yard stuck like a bat, which probably would have been more useful. 

He in three breathes. He gripped the handle with sweaty palms. Then, he threw the door open. 

"Don' even think 'bout murdering me! I am armed, !" He screamed. 

The woman standing there frightened and cowered. Jongdae faltered instantly and lowered his 'weapon'. His breathing leveled out to a safe hyperventilation. 

The woman before him was slender and her skirt made her hips look plentiful. Her hair hung over half her face, effectively making her look like a cyclops in the low lighting. She wore an elegant black blouse that was buttoned down enough to see her cleavage. Her skin was so pale, he'd have thought her a ghost. 

she was every , testosterone filled boy's dream.

"The lord is testing me..." Jongdae mumbled, hormones having a hard time keeping his eyes in the proper body parts. 

He cleared his throat, "Hi." Nailed it. 

The woman went from looking scared to dubious. She merely pointed to the hallway and Jongdae obeyed. He walked out of the classroom, into the wide hallway. The door was slammed shut behind him at the same time as thunder rolled. 

"Hey," he wondered aloud, "Did you know we were having storms today? I don't remember anyone saying a thing about them on the news." Not that he watched the news, but making conversation with this woman seemed like the best choice.

The woman sighed and began walking. Maybe not the best choice. 

Jongdae watched the swish of her hips and her set back shoulders. Like a snob, like a queen. Jongdae smacked himself. "Bad 'Dae,  naughty thoughts shouldn't be had here." He walked a few paces behind her. He assumed she was a teacher, she had the commanding presence of one. He followed her blindy. 

Then, the hallways became unfamiliar. Jongdae knew this building was the biggest on campus, but he got around and he had never been here. These hallways were drawn out, too long, and too dark. Arch-like windows were to his right while a plain wall was to his left. Call him crazy, but he thought a college was supposed to have rooms.

This felt all sorts of wrong. The shadows danced in the corner of his eyes and the rain dripping down the windows looked like tortured faces. 

He spoke shakily, "Wh-where are we going?" 

The teacher held a finger up to her lips, "Shhhhh." 

Jongdae moaned and stuffed his hands in his hoodie. His gut had a bad feeling. His hands wrung together in his hoodie pocket. His useless phone bumped into his knuckles. He kept swallowing his saliva until he couldn't anymore. The hall was colder than the class room, he thought he could even feel his sweat starting to chill. His legs were starting ache, he had no clue where he was going, but wherever it was, it was too far.

The woman stopped dead in her tracks.

 He was more suspicious than releived. 

"Where are we?" 

She turned, painstakingly slowly. "The abandoned part of the college." 

Alarms blared in Jongdae's mind. Adandoned part of the college? This was screaming murder scene and the dark and stormy night setting didn't help. His legs itched with the urge to run as fast he could.

"Just...leave me alone. I'm going...home," he said deeply, trying to intimidate her. Although, her face kept the look of indifference, she didn't stop him when he started walking. 

He felt her beady eyes on his back, but shook it off. He couldn't wait to get out of there. Now, to his left, the storm raged on harder than ever. Wind pushed on the glass and thunder threatened the buildings foundations. 

"Don't do it..." he told himself. "Do not look behind you, you will regret it forever." However, not only did he feel eyes on him, but he heard the click of heels. The feeling burned, he had to look. He was a creature of paranoia and not knowing something made him want to jume off a cliff. 

Jongdae turned.

bad idea. -F. Never again. Nope. He had rather jumped off the cliff.

Jongdae then took off sprinting with the she-demon on his heels. He didn't like to admit being superstious, but for once it finally paid off for him. 

The once beautiful and y woman was a ghostly figure wrapped in ragged clothes with needle like teeth pulled back in a sneer. Her hands were like claws, they made at him and tried to get his back. 

He ran and ran until he felt like his legs would give out. He looked for a way out. Jongdae spotted a door that led outside and he bolted for it. He threw it open, almost breaking it in his haste. He didn't close it behind him, but he didn't dare stop going. 

He made it to the football field. He scrambled and weaved onto the turf. Empty stadiums laughed him as he stumbled to rid of the woman. 

Jongdae twisted around while running. 

The woman wasn't there. No she-demon or y professor. Just heavy rain. 

He stopped and looked all around him. She couldn't have just dissappeared completely. His hair hung in his face and he was soaked to the bone, but the fear that trickled through him kept him feeling warm. His eyes skittered from one thing to the next. Thunder shook the stadiums. 

Blinding lights all at once. 

Electricity crackled and popped around all the high stadium lights. Sparks flew as they winked on and off. For the first time all night, Jongdae saw lightening. He watched, eyes bulging, while lightening played a sick game with the lights. For a moment the sound of sizzling and popping sounded like a song, all too familiar. 

Jongdae became paralyzed as the lightening strikes burnt the turf fifty feet away from him. Like shy footsteps, they creeped closer and closer until the last thing Jongdae could remember was the loud crack. 

oh, she wants me. Oh, she's got me. Oh, she hurts me. 

It was dark, damp, and terrifying. It was way too late for him to be out and about. Anything could pop out at him and kidnapp him or kill him. A demon, a vampire, a serial killer, or something worse. 

Zitao held his backpack close and wushu stick closer. He worried his silver lip ring with his teeth. The streets were empty and shop lights were either flipped off or in the form of signs such as 'closed' and 'on break'. 

Great.  

Zitao was a tough guy. He was a master at martial arts and wushu. Chances were, he could probably snap someone in half, if he wanted. However, he was as delicate in natural as he was tough physically. The tender, blooming youth of eighteen had gotten rid of his fear of things under his bedding and the snakes that lived under the toilet. A few phobias remained, though. Mirrors? At night? Not on your life. Darkness (in general)? He'd rather be at home to deal with that.

"Why? Whywhywhywhwywhwywhwy? Why?" Zitao whimpered. 

The moon was high in the onyx sky. The light pollution from neighboring cities blocked out all the stars. He gulped dryly. Home was another half-an-hour away. Why he and his father chose to live so far away would always be a mystery. 

It hadn't helped that his wushu class had ran late and his phone was somewhere in the highschool, lost, and most likely being hacked where all his embarrassing selfies were hidden. He had stepped in a puddle, causing his socks and fifty dollar shoes to get soaked. Zitao had even run into a low rise doorway. It had left a bruise in the center of his forehead. 

And that's how his day was going. 

He took long strides, his school pants stretched only so far before they were too small around his thighs and too short down at the ankles. It had rained earlier, now the air was humid and hot, but the breeze was freezing. The colorful beads that hung off some shop doors rattled and made terrifying thwack noises against the buildings. 

He breathed lightly and sidestepped a pile of random dog in the middle of the sidewalk. Zitao would be at a intersection of road in twenty feet, he thought it weird to see a dog's business so close to the road. 

The red, yellow, and green lights blinked to no one but him. Somewhere behind him, a cat mewled, a radio played the newest songs, and thunder cracked distantly. The four lane street was pristine with new paint lines and smooth tar. Zitao hadn't thought it was really necessary for another four lane road when most people just walked everywhere. Zitao thought it threw off the balance between man and nature. They had cut down nearly a fourth of a park to put in the new road. 

It also got in the way of Zitao getting home.  

A car flew by. Whiter than a sheet of paper and faster than Zitao's cat when he opened the food packadge. He stumbled back and stared wide eyed as the car did a severe U-turn. It ran over part of the sidewalk and left scorch marks on the once perfect road. Zitao watched in awe when the mystery car started to zoom back towards him.

Zitao looked both ways, the car looked like it should be racing someone else. 

Instead, there was a girl standing in the middle of the road, right in the way of the car. 

He couldn't move fast enough. In a split second, his backpack was on the gritty ground, his squelching shoes were leaving wet mark marks on dry asphalt, and the girl was in his arms. He waited for a stinging pain. Zitao squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn't have to see it. 

Yet, it never came. 

There was no screeching of tires, no painful screams, or infinite darkness of death. Just silence. Silent silence. The only thing Zitao could feel was the soft girl in his long arms. Her long, chocolate brown hair tickled his finger tips, her breath ruffled his hair, and her fruity perfume that had been sprayed by her neck choked his throat where. 

He pulled away feeling bashful and confused. His cheeks were dusted with rose, but the girl looked indifferent. He whipped around to face the car. It looked sorely out of place. A bleach white Maserati sat there, sharp edges with a shiny finish. It was probably the nicest car in a twenty mile radius. 

Zitao did a double take. Seconds, seconds, ago, the car had been barreling towards them. Now, it had just stopped. Frozen. 

"Wha-what just happen-ed?" His young voice cracked. 

The girl shrugged passively. He stared at her, a little disgusted he didn't get a thank you and a little suspicious of how calm she was being despite almost getting run over by fanciest car in the country. She looked like one of the girls from his school. Short, tan, long brown hair, and dark eyes. 

"Listen. Can you hear it?" she said, her voice sounded much more mature than she looked. She had an accented voice, foreign, but fluent. 

Zitao listened for something. He frowned deeply. 

"I don't hear anything. What am I listening for? Will you just tell me wha-" 

"Lord, you talk a lot. And fast," the girl groaned. "Just listen. Something is different, no?" 

Zitao huffed loudly and closed his eyes. Listened. He growled in frustration, "All I hear is you breathing!" He threw his hands up. He could hear her smirking. 

Then it set in.

"All I hear..."He scanned the trees and shops behind him. The rattling beads were frozen mid-air. "...is nothing." The cats weren't mewling, the radio stopped mid chorus, and the thunder of an approaching storm vanished. 

The girl rolled her eyes. "Wrong again Zitao. If you listen closely,  you can hear Time bending. That car is still on, but Time is moving so slowly that it's only moving half of a half of a half of an inch per second. Go on, touch it. The metal is still warm." 

Zitao was beyond skeptical, but this girl made him want to piss his pants. Her eyes were straight black with no life. He walked hesitantly over to the car. He breifly thought if there was actually a driver or not. He shuffled forward; he never took his eyes off the girl. 

The car was maybe only three feet away from his knees, but Zitao refused to go any closer. He reached out his hand over the smooth metal. Wavering heat curled over his fingers and made his hand uncomfortably hot. He could faintly hear the hum of the engine, even that sounded sluggish.

There was a sigh, "Hm, I don't think you're close enough. Let me help." 

Zitao didn't understand for a fraction of a second. Even so, it was too late. All the sounds came back ten-fold, all at once. Zitao tried to  turn to run, but the squealing tires and roaring engine were too fast. 

What else can be better than this?