The trip back from White Mountain was quiet — outwardly, at least. I listened to Changbin and Jeongin think about why we weren't talking, and Felix compare me to a baby with colic. He gave me glimpses into possible futures just to piss me off further. It worked.

When we got home, I sat at the piano, and Changbin and Felix collapsed onto the sofa in a tangle of limbs. Seungmin, Jeongin and Hyunjin were there, too, cuddling on the other side of the couch. I plonked a bitter key. I'd never noticed how easy, effortless, it was for them to be close to their partners. I wanted that.

Minho and I were going to the meadow later this morning. An anxious voice was whispering in my ear, as per usual, but an excited voice was there in the other. I was a tiny little bit ecstatic. We hadn't been alone — really alone, without interruption or onlookers — since the drive home from Port Angeles. I missed having him to myself. All mine.

I went upstairs and checked myself out in the mirror. I popped my collar, cuffed the ankles of my jeans, pulled at every wrinkle. When I got back downstairs, the terrible trio were gone. Haseong and Chan had left for a picnic the day before and still weren't back. Felix and Changbin hadn't moved, but when he saw me, Changbin detangled himself and got up.

"I'll be in the watchtower."

"Aren't you gonna mediate?" I asked.

"I happen to be royally tired of your bullshit. But I trust it won't come to blows."

"You're easing the room, aren't you?"

"No, Seungmin's watching."

We all looked up. Seungmin was hiding in the light fixture.

"Dude, this was supposed to be a stealth mission," he said to Changbin.

"Just keep them from killing each other."

"I promise I'll be good," Felix said innocently, crossing his legs on the couch, "if Jisung promises."

I folded my arms across my chest. I wasn't opposed to a fight. I had way too much energy in me. I thought idly about flinging Felix into the atmosphere.

Jisung, Changbin thought.

"Fine," I said.

"And promise you won't give me the cold shoulder," Felix said. "You know Haseong hates it when we're not talking."

"Wouldn't want a repeat of the seventies," Seungmin said.

"Fine, fine, fine," I said. "I just wanna know about the futures."

"Which futures are you talking about exactly?" Felix asked. "The short-term details or the inexorable Big Two that you're ignoring like a prize nitwit?"

I was about to jump him, but something caught my ankles and I wheeled face-first to the floor.

"That didn't take long," Changbin muttered.

"Good job, cookie," Seungmin said.

I looked backed to see Hyunjin, hiding under the carpet, still holding my ankles.

"You were there the whole time?" I gasped.

"Hidden in plain sight." He let me go and shrank back under the rug.

I hopped up and straightened my shirt again. "A lapse in judgement. Look, I'm just here for an update. This is for Minho, for his life, okay? Please?"

Felix narrowed his eyes. Words flowed through his mind without a pause. There's a forty percent chance he's gonna try ta kiss you in the first quarter of the day. Under no circumstances do you let him do it. He crashes the car in nearly every outcome. Compliment his clothes and hair — it'll make him feel good. Once you're sparklin' in the meadow, he's gonna touch your face — do not breathe while he does it. It won't end well.

"That's all?"

Not quite. Are you gonna apologize?

"For what?"

For rushing me earlier. He pouted. You broke your promise.

I sighed, nodded my head. "Yes. I'm really sorry, Felix. I'm sorry that you're a loudmouth nuisance who has no life outside of trivial mind games and micromanaging your brothers."

He scrambled toward me but Jeongin popped out from between the couch cushions and restrained him. Hyunjin grabbed my ankles — I face-planted again.

"Jeongin, get outta here — now," Felix snarled, "you're too young to see this."

"I'm forty years older than you, shut up." Jeongin put him in a headlock and they both toppled over the back of the couch.

"Hyunjin, let go!" I shrieked, raring to get my hands around Felix's neck.

"Don't you dare yell at him," Seungmin threatened from above.

"The point of this plan was not to fight!" Changbin thrust his hands in the air.

The front door opened, and Chan and Haseong walked in, holding hands and smiling. The smiles dropped when they saw us.

"What the hell?" Haseong said.

"Seungmin, get down from there!" Chan yelled. "Changbin, what's happening?"

He was digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, posture defeated. "Felix and Jisung had a thing."

"One decade," Haseong muttered, and then louder, "please, just give us one goddamn decade without another infantile argument. Apologize — right now. I will not hesitate to take away TV privileges."

"Oh shit, you guys better make up quick," Hyunjin whispered. I yanked my legs out of his grip and got up.

"I have to go," I said. "Minho is probably up by now. But I am sorry, for the record. Haseong, I know you hate it when we fight. And, Hyunjin, I'm sorry I yelled at you. I apologize to everyone present. Except Felix."

Felix hissed at me and then turned, eyes contrite, to the family. "I also apologize. It coulda been a beautiful morning but we made it ugly. I'm truly sorry and I love all of you. Except Jisung, he sucks."

I gave him the finger and he gave it right back.

"Jisung, just go," Chan sighed, kneading his temples.

"I'm going, I'm going." I headed toward the door.

"Have fun with Minho," Felix called. "See you tonight. Or perhaps this afternoon." His lips pulled back, showing his fangs. "One or the other."

I didn't turn back, didn't stop walking, storming down the lawn. Changbin had been easing our emotions — the anger kicked up a notch once I was away from him, wandering through the trees. I lingered, pacing, and breathed deeply — in through my mouth, out through my nose.

Calm down. Our fights never lasted too long — the record was ten years without a word. I admit that I was the one who refused to talk to him, but he was the one who shoved me off a cliff just because I looked "pushable."

We had always been volatile. We would work it out. Eventually.

I started walking again — and then running. I needed my oasis. Forks was still asleep, the sun just coming up, bright yellow behind the clouds.

I whipped up to Minho's door and knocked — too loud, too eager. I heard a pair of shoes patter to another room, a faucet run, and then he was on the other side of the door, wrestling with the lock. He finally ripped the door open and lost his footing, stumbling a little.

"You okay?" I laughed, hands out.

"Yeah." His eyes flit down, giving me the once-over. "Hi."

"Hi. Are you ready?"

"Um, yes." He locked his door, walked down the stairs beside me. We climbed into his truck.

"Where should I go?" he asked, backing out of the driveway.

"Take the one-oh-one north." I got distracted when I saw he wasn't buckled up. "And please put your seatbelt on. You're freaking me out."

He buckled up quickly and put his hands back on the steering wheel. My love was a great driver. I took a second to admire his side profile.

I reached over and worried a fold of his shirt between my fingers. It was polyester, brown like umber, and the contrast between it and his skin was honestly beautiful.

"I like your shirt."

"Thank you. I'm pretty sure I found it in a free box. I like your shirt, too."

"Thanks. I sewed it myself, actually, in seventy-one." A meditation phase. Did nothing for me.

"Oh. Well, it really makes your" — he gestured at me as if to say 'everything' — "look pretty."

"Thank" — voice crack — "you. Your hair looks nice today."

"Woo!" He pumped his fist in the air.

"Was it being difficult?"

"Mm. Most of my morning was washing it and drying it and washing it and— what are you doing?"

I'd already been so aware of the smell of his blood — perfection in every sense of the word — but now there was something else in his breath. Mint. I was leaning toward him, intrigued, sniffing discreetly.

"Your breath smells like mint."

"I had a Tic Tac."

"Just one?"

"You tell me."

He leaned in, lips puckered — I shot back. I should've seen that coming. God, could I be any more aware of where I ended and he began, all our various peripheries and edges?

"Eyes on the road, eyes on the road, eyes, eyes," I stuttered, pointing.

He smiled at the road ahead of us, unbothered.

"Changing the subject," I said, "how did you sleep?"

He yawned as if my question had summoned it. "Badly."

"Why?"

"It was weird — not having you there. I was lonely."

"Oh." Words fell out of my head. He spoke before I could whip myself into shape.

"Let's change the subject again. Wanna tell me about 'other factors'?"

I was tense, braced for the worst, but I wasn't going to break my promise. If he really wanted to know...

"Fine." I took off my boots and settled in as best I could. He watched me while I did this, looking pleased.

"Sorry if I stutter or something while I'm explaining," I said. "It's sort of weird to talk about."

"It's okay."

"And I'm sorry. In general."

"You can stop apologizing now."

"Sorry." He shot me a look that would have intimidated me if I didn't know him. "Okay, fine, I'm starting."

I took a breath... and hesitated.

"I really don't want you to feel uncomfortable," I said.

"I won't."

"I don't know how to say it in a way that is both, um, accurate and eloquent."

"Oh, my God — just say it."

"I'm a vampire, and your blood smells very, very, very good to me."

He looked sort of confused. "I mean, that makes sense."

"No, it's... different. It smells better than others' do. It makes me... want it... I am so sorry." I slumped a little, squeezing the bridge of my nose against a headache.

"Um. I don't really know how to respond to that. But you seem upset."

"I just — I don't want you to be angry or uncomfortable or afraid of me."

"You literally tell me to be afraid of you every chance you get."

I assembled my sentence from the ground up. My body was still but my toes fidgeted.

"I want you to be afraid of me and I don't at the same time." I said it just slow enough that he could catch it. "If you were afraid, you would leave me, and you would be safe, which is what I want — so much. But if you left me, I would have... nothing. So I both want you to be afraid and not. Are you afraid?"

He took a moment to answer. "I'm not afraid. Sorry to disappoint."

"Only one side of me is disappointed," I muttered. "The other is happy."

"All of me is happy. I like spending time with you."

It was very innocent, the way he said it, earnest. He genuinely enjoyed hanging out with me. I smiled at him the way a star would smile at the sun.

"Me, too."

"Er, where should I go now?"

"Oh, right. Go right on the one-ten, please. Drive till the pavement ends."

"Okay. You know what, tell me more. What about my blood is attractive to you?"

'Why do you want to drain my blood like a hungry demon?' I didn't think he understood how weird it was for us to be talking about this. "It feels like the smell is tailored to me, almost. It makes breathing around you difficult, though I'm mostly immune to humans now."

"Immune?"

"I can be around them without... you know."

"Is it hard to be around me because...?"

"It was." I cringed. "I mean, it still is. But less and less. It's why I try to refrain from contact with you, when it's possible."

"I'm sorry, Jisung." The apology sounded so wrong. He had nothing to apologize for. "I guess it would be easier for you to be around me if I wasn't so..." He gave up on finishing the sentence.

"Please don't apologize. I should be apologizing."

"You already did." He must have known that I might be overcome by remorse if he let me continue. "You've really been going through this since we met?"

"Yeah."

"You could have told me."

"I'm sorry I didn't. The opportunity never arose." I rushed through the sentence, anxious to move on. I needed to explain myself. "Can I say something?"

"Please do."

"When we met for the first time, your — um, appeal? — caught me by surprise. I was panicking, using every bit of strength I had to restrain myself, yet, when you tripped, I automatically reached out to catch you. I pulled my arms back, focussing on maintaining control, but it was beyond my imagination that I could feel empathy when I was compromised like that. It was because of you.

"I left Forks after that. I was trying to avoid you, in all honesty. I didn't plan to come back, but I couldn't take it. That was because of you, too."

He smiled like he won at something. "I was happy when you came back. Suspicious, but happy."

"And you're really not scared? Now?"

"No."

"I've been pretty good at pretending to be a human, haven't I?"

He looked at me, eyebrows lowered. "Why 'pretending'?"

"I'm not a human. I can only pretend — we have to pretend."

He shook his head softly. "Jisung, you're human. I think you're the most human person I've ever met."

I just stared at him like a dumbass. Soon the pavement tapered out, and Minho stopped the truck to the side of a wooden marker.

"So it's a hike hike," he grumbled, staring out the window.

I worked to get my shoes back on, mind still blank. "Mmhmm."

"You didn't happen to bring a ton of snacks, did you?"

I pinpointed the nearest gas station in the area, calculated the most efficient route there. I guessed I'd have to loot the place since I hadn't brought any money. It was a chain anyway.

"There's a gas station half a mile west," I said. "I could run and grab you something?"

He blinked twice, silent.

"Minho?"

"Um, no, thanks," he said. "You're really sweet."

If I'm sweet, then you're pure / a spoon full of sugar, but you're the cure.

My head spun.

We got out of the truck and headed into the woods. Minho stared straight up at the canopy, at the sky peeking through it. He didn't seem to realize he was heading straight for a patch of stinging nettle.

"Minho," I said.

"What?"

"Stinging nettle."

He looked down. "Oh. Thanks." He wide-stepped around it and walked by my side. "You're kind of smart, aren't you?"

"Er. Am I?"

"You knew it was stinging nettle."

"It's not hard to tell which plants are which."

His eyes narrowed. He bent down and picked up a leaf. "Then tell me what this is."

"A leaf."

"The tree it's from, wiseass."

I tried not to smile. "A red alder."

"How do you know?"

"It smells like one."

"So vampires are pretty smell-oriented. Is it a thing to, like, pee on stuff to let other vampires know that they've been there?"

"Vampires can't pee, Minho."

"Oh. Do they—"

"Please don't ask that."

"Fine." He bent down and picked up a pinecone. "What's this?"

"A pinecone."

He punched my shoulder — nearly sent me stumbling off the path.

"Kidding, kidding," I laughed. "Gimme." I took the pinecone and sniffed. "It's from a Douglas-fir, two weeks old. It isn't mature yet — a squirrel must have knocked it off its branch."

"You can really tell all that?"

"No."

He hit my arm again. I grinned and threw the pinecone away.

Farther up the path, Minho pointed ahead of us, where the trees were starting to thin.

"Is that where we're going?" he asked.

"Yeah. You know, just because I wanted to... show you this, doesn't mean we can't leave once you're tired of it."

"I know. My schedule's all clear."

I bobbed my head up and down, satisfied.

At the end of the path, Minho pushed the ferns out of the way with his foot, letting me go first. When he looked up, his expression went blank. Lost for words, he walked out into the middle of the meadow, held his hair back and let the sun shine on his face.

I was still under the cover of trees. Sun made me uneasy. It was the threat of exposure, and I felt very, very exposed already.

Minho realized I wasn't there, whirled around and found me in the shadows. He held his arms up, inviting me closer. It was irresistible. I shrugged out of my flannel, tied it around my waist, and rolled my sleeves up to my forearms.

I took a deep breath before I stepped into the sunlight.