whispers of amethyst

unexpected encounters

Amy woke up at exactly 8:00 p.m. to her doorbell ringing twice. Only two hours of sleep? God, she hated that, but she still dragged herself to the door, ready to ask anyone standing there 'how may I help you?' To her surprise, it was Taehyung. She gave him a wide smile which soon faded as she took in his expression; he looked scared, almost as if someone had hurt him.
He stepped in and hugged her tight, her frame getting smaller and melting between his shoulders and chest, moulding her in. He kept whispering something, not audible to her, but she hugged him back, giving him his time to speak up.

He pulled back and looked at her, examining her face as if he was looking for some injuries."You're fine," he sighed softly and hugged her again, leaving her even more confused."What's wrong, Tae?" she asked at last. He pulled away and closed the door, motioning her to walk towards the living room. He smiled a little upon seeing the cake box and the duvet on the floor, knowing she had one of her favorite nights. They both sat down, and she waited for him to finally tell her what was going on.

"This may sound kind of crazy," he started, "but I had a dream, and it was kind of like how you describe your psychic dreams." She frowned and asked him to continue.

"There was a guy, well, I couldn't see him, he was covered in white paint or slime, I couldn't figure it out. But yes, he wasn't visible, but there was one distinctive thing about him—he had 0197 written on him in red. Out of nowhere, he got angry, and you came into the dream, and he hurt you too. But then he suddenly stopped, and you disappeared, and he had that look again."

"What look?" she asked, soaking in everything.

"Um, I don't know how to describe it, but the most appropriate way would be lost? And hurt, yeah, he just seemed so sad, Amy."

She didn't understand how Taehyung had a whole dream about the number that had been bothering her. Was it the entity? Was he not able to reach out to her?

"Tae, can you remember what color his eyes were?"

"Eyes? Um, I think pink? Or was it blue? I don't know, Amy, I think they were pink."

"Was it like pastel pink? Or baby pink? Or magenta?"

"Oh, I remember now! It was baby pink."

She sighed internally, thankful. It's an innocent soul who needs her help, not an evil soul. But how did he appear in his dream? Maybe because she allowed Taehyung into the other side? It's a possibility.

"Amy, is it a bad thing? Is it related to your case?" She nodded.

"Yeah, but it's nothing to worry about. Just an innocent soul who isn't able to find his way to me. No biggie," she smiled and stood up.

"You want to eat something? We could go grab some coffee and get some sandwiches."

He nodded and stood up too. Just like that, fifteen minutes later, they were both in the kitchen waiting for the ramen to cook. After talking about his work and her new book coming out soon, they both saw the time; it was 2 p.m. Taehyung remembered he had a date at 3 p.m., so he left after making sure she was safe and okay, saying he would come over when the date was done.

Amy's house was Tae's comfort zone. She couldn't count on her fingers the number of times he had lived there despite having an amazing apartment of his own. She lived in a two-story house, quite spacious, enough to easily house six people without chaos. He crashed there so much she had a room for him, with his clothes, a few video games, and a few Polaroids on the wall just so he could feel at home. He kept insisting it didn't matter if his stuff wasn't there; she made him feel at home enough.

Amy and Taehyung went way back to when she was 7 and he was 9. Their parents left them at an old lady's house who used to take care of kids whose parents had jobs. They met there and had been inseparable ever since. She gained awareness about her abilities when she was 7—it was one hell of a ride. She was taken up to heaven and down to hell, staying there for a month to learn everything. The people there treated her like she was 27, not 7. That's a story for sometime later though.

She was instructed not to tell anyone else about her powers, but when she came back, she couldn't lie to Taehyung. He knew her so well within a few months that he saw right through her. She may have been only 7, but that month had changed her, and so she spilled the beans to him. He never left her side after that; he was there at every case she went through, all interactions—he became her shield. He was her brother, and he was the best there was.

While Taehyung was gone, she decided to clean up a little, take a bath, and get some work done. It was 2:30 now; she cleaned up the mess in the living room first, threw out the trash, washed the dishes, and cleaned the dust off the table.

She was really proud of how she had created her house; it was exactly how she imagined it when she was little—a two-story wooden bungalow far off in the countryside but still close enough to basic necessities. It wasn't a huge house, but it was big, cozy, and warm. A small doorway led to an open kitchen to the left, and straight ahead was the living room accessorized with art from the early '80s, a fireplace, a huge couch that would press you into itself, a few single sofa chairs that were way too cuddly, and side tables where she kept all her "tools" like an amethyst necklace, beads, crystals, and such. A beautiful wooden table with cute ceramic coasters and a purple crystal as a centerpiece adorned the room. The wall behind the fireplace was stacked with books, and she had a nifty movable ladder for the ones up top. The staircase held secrets—two drawers, one sneaky gun in there. Downstairs, three bedrooms pulled double duty, one as a storage haven, another as her office. There was even a bathroom cleverly tucked away in the bookshelf. Upstairs, two more bedrooms; one was hers, and the other was reserved for Taehyung. It was her little haven, and even when she was flying solo, it felt like her inner kid was doing a victory dance.

Done cleaning up her place and taking the trash out, and all dolled up for the day, she made her way towards her office, intending to write a few pages of her new book today. But just before she could do so, a sweet sound of a piano note from her custom doorbell changed her route to the door instead. She opened it, watching as a woman in her early twenties gave her a small smile and a polite bow.

"How may I help you?" she inquired, a question she asked every stranger who came across her doorstep."Hi, Amy, I'm Aerin. I have a message for you."