There's something serene about wandering through a city at night. The skyscrapers twinkle with lights, taking the weight off of the stars, even if it's for just a moment. Cars silently coast over black asphalt, their bodies clinking when crossing over yet another untouched pothole. There are a few drunken revelers leaving the bars for the night, their raucous calls dancing across the damp sidewalk. My breath turns into a cloud of puffy white air before me.

It's not like I have a death wish or anything, especially when you consider that I'm walking around in the murder capital of the world. But, there's a strange sense of clarity that comes with being alone in a quiet, sleeping city. It allows you to finally settle into your thoughts, and maybe help figure out what it is that you've been feeling lately.

Well, at least, I've been missing that clarity in my life. I'm twenty-four years old, and two and a half years out of undergrad. I have a degree in journalism, but a job working full-time at my nearby Target. I just failed yet another secondary interview at a newspaper in Chicago, which left me to wallow in a drunken haze all weekend—much to my friends' chagrin. Tess was one drunken rant away from kicking me out of her place and she knew I was well aware of that fact. Maybe that's the reason why I've been aimlessly wandering through the city for the past hour or so now. While Tess went to bed, my mind couldn't possibly be more awake.

I'm not saying I'm proud of my drunken wandering through life. All I'm saying is that things are difficult right now. But, then again, they're difficult for everyone, aren't they?

My phone buzzes in my pocket. Most likely my sister, yet again wondering why I'm not back at home yet. I laugh at nothing, taking one last drag from the butt of my cigarette.

Another habit I'm not proud of.

I toss the cigarette on the ground and grind into it with my heel. I reach my trembling fingers into the depths of my coat pocket. My hand brushes against the cold metal of my car keys and wraps around the rectangle of my phone.

Back home. Concert was great, btw. You should've come—plenty of scalper tickets for sale and there was a section of empty seats.

When are you coming back? Mom's expecting you tonight.

Zara? ZARA!

Seriously? It's almost 1am and you're still in the city? Don't you work tomorrow morning? You know... like six hours from now?

I slip my phone back into my pocket and turn to make my way back toward Tess's apartment. My sister, Maya, means well, but sometimes she can be as overbearing as my mother. But I know she's right—I do have to be at work in the morning, and the last thing I need is to lose my job over one-too-many call-ins.

A harried figure rushes down the sidewalk, his head hanging low, a puffy black winter jacket hugging his frame. The drifting light from the street lamps brush across his lean figure. His head is lowered, his eyes most likely tracing patterns across the grimy ground. Skyscrapers and apartment buildings hug against us tightly; I've never felt so small before.

Standing on the slim sidewalk, I try to step around him, but it's too late. Like a bull in full charge, he walks straight toward me and knocks me onto the ground. Dirty snow begins melting into the seat of my pants, further freezing me in the cold weather. I curse under my breath as the melting snow burns against my skin. In the dim street light, I peer up at the hooded figure that knocked me down. Silvered hair peeks out from beneath a knitted black cap. His eyes are shaped like a cat, the colored indiscernible. His lips are parted in a surprised 'O.'

With a groan, I get to my feet.

"You okay?" his English is hesitant and heavy with an accent. "I'm sorry."

I brush off the snow and pebbles from the back of my pants. "Yeah," I reply. "I'm fine."

But he's clearly not. His lower lip trembles as he intakes a sharp, shuddering breath. Almost silently, his lips begin moving as he speaks to himself in another language. But not just any language—it's one I know very well.

"You're Korean?" I ask him, the words slipping out in my parent's native tongue. My second language.

His eyes widen and his lips stretch into a grin. "You speak Korean?"

I nod. I just spoke in the language, didn't I? My temple begins to throb as my gut twists.

"Oh, thank goodness!" he steps closer out of excitement.

I take a step back, the heel of my sneaker balancing on the edge of the curb. A car whizzes past, upchucking more dirty, winter mush from the street.

"I decided it was a great idea to go for a walk, since it's late at night and no one will be around—especially not fans of mine—and I figured I'd be safe as long as I stuck close to the hotel. But since my phone battery is dead and doesn't work in the US, I somehow managed to get lost. And I didn't memorize my manager's number like I should have and I've been looking for someone to help me but almost everywhere is closed at this time of night or no one understands me—can you help me?"

I blink at him. A car horn blares in the distance. "Can I—what?"

He shivers as a biting winter wind whips around the corner of the nearby building. He waves his hands around. "Can you help me get back in touch with my team?"

I sigh. This was not how I was expecting my night to go. A lost Korean man, a cold city street, and a—isn't this how most bar jokes start? I shake my head. "I'm not sure..."

He stares at me with wide eyes, his lower lip pushed out and trembling.

"Do you remember the name of your hotel?" I tug my phone out of my pocket.

He shakes his head. "No."

I stare at him, my fingers frozen over my now useless maps app. "So you don't remember your hotel name, your manager's phone number, and your phone's dead?"

"Ah..." he rubs a hand against the back of his hat.

"Please tell me you at least know your name."

Please tell me I'm not talking to someone with amnesia or delusions. Or that I'm making a mistake by helping this stranger. My parents would knock me down from where I stand if they saw me speaking with someone—a man bigger than me, no less—instead of calling the police. My thumb hovers over the lock button on my phone; if I click it enough, it'll call 911.

As if mocking my thought process, my phone chirps as the battery drains. 20% left. Too much time spent in the cold. Or it wasn't as charged as I thought when I left to wander the city.

He brightens at that. "Of course I do! I'm Kwon Soon Young. Most people know me as Hoshi from Seventeen. Or as holangi. Or as ten-hour-ten-minute. I have tiger eyes, see?"

I nearly drop my phone. How did I not know? "You're a part of Seventeen?"

His cheery demeanor drops. "Please tell me you're not a sasaeng."

I laugh miserably. "No. I don't even follow k-pop," I confess. "I honestly wouldn't have even known you were in the area if it wasn't for my sister. Here, look." I shove my phone into his hands, letting him scroll through my music app. "See? No k-pop."

Wait, why does it suddenly matter what Soon Young thinks about me? Why do I care if he knows anything about me, for that matter? We are nothing more than two strangers passing on the streets of Chicago.

Soon Young nods thoughtfully as he hands my phone back. "Okay. I'll trust you."

I frown. "You'll trust a random stranger on the street of Chicago? Really?"

He shrugs.

"You do realize this is how most horror movies start, right?"

"But we're not in a horror movie, are we?" he teases, a twinkle lighting up his eyes.

I shake my head and begin walking away from him, back in the direction of my car. "So what do you want to do?" I jangle my keys in my hand. "I have to head out of the city, but I may be better equipped to help you with a computer in front of me instead of with a dead phone. Or, my dad could probably help too. He's a detective for the Chicago P.D."

Soon Young strolled along beside me, his long legs proving to be more than capable of matching my fast pace. "I'll stick with you," he said quietly. "Plus, we should get out of the cold. How long have you been wandering around out here?"

I scoff. "Too long than I care to admit."

"Long day?"

My shoe scuffs against the sidewalk as I stumble forward. He catches my upper arm easily, but I shake him off. "No, more like a long week. Month. Year. Honestly? Take your pick."

He nods thoughtfully as we cross a quiet intersection. I wrap my hand tighter around my car keys. For some reason, having someone by my side made me more jumpy. Or perhaps it's because he's a celebrity? Do I now have an inherent urge to protect him from danger?

"Is your car far away?" he asks.

"No," I respond.

Even though I had been wandering in endless loops through the city for an hour or two, I always stuck to the same path with Tess's apartment at the epicenter. My car was parked in front of her place, in one of the very few and more coveted parking spots. I just hope it wasn't ticketed. Or towed. Please let my car be sitting there, please let it be sitting there...

"I have to ask—why are you trusting me? I mean, you don't know anything about me, I've told you that I'm taking you to my car, and you're still coming along?" I'm truly baffled by him. What celebrity trusts a mere stranger on the words that they aren't a fan?

"Do you want me to not come?" he responds easily. "And I know plenty. Your dad is a detective, and you didn't even know who I was initially, so that removes most chances of kidnapping right there." He pauses. "You're clearly lonely—"

I stop in my tracks. He continues for a few feet before stopping to glance at me from beneath the hood of his jacket. "I'm. Not. Lonely," I grind out.

He shrugs.

"My name is Zara Kang," I finally say after we'd been walking for a while in silence. "I'm twenty-four years old and don't have a career. I have a younger sister who's twenty and is a huge fan of Seventeen, so we'll have to be careful about that. I've had my driver's license for seven years and have never once gotten into an accident or gotten a ticket. And, you're right, I have no plans to kidnap you."

He laughs. It's a beautiful, heartwarming sound. If only I had it in me to chime in.

"Zara," he says, his tongue awkwardly fitting around the 'z'. It's easy to forget that letter doesn't exist in Korean when you've lived in America your whole life. "I think we're going to have fun together."

I sincerely hope he's right.

*****

A/N: Hey guys! I hope you're all doing well. I've been having a lot of fun working on this fanfiction, so I hope you'll have a lot of fun reading it! I haven't decided on an updating schedule yet, so keep your eyes peeled for a new chapter coming soon. See you then! (^◡^ )