The first time they meet, he remembers her in a pretty blue nurse’s dress, with the motivating red cross sewn carefully onto her chest, and he admits guilty of once asking his friend to punch him square in the face just so she could take a look at it.
The second time they meet, she’s a famous singer-to-be living in some dark alleyway of New York, with nothing but stolen clothes from donation bins, because famous singer-to-bes are in fact not that famous.
Another time they’re labelmates at some fancy Korean music industry and suddenly he’s wearing more eyeliner than he has in all seven (or is that seventeen?) of his lifetimes.
There's something between them, he concludes that afternoon during Biology class, about three days since he's first seen her walk into his college class, and it's not normal. Fate? He's always ridiculed it, but maybe he should have paid more attention during that Psychology lecture.
