It was raining all day. The weather forecaster on TV articulately informed there weren’t any signs to stop and tomorrow would be the same as today. As the segment changed to sports, I switched off the TV and silence engulfed the whole space bar the shrieking fan. Three in the evening was more like three in the morning, you couldn’t make into anything except for the dimmed street posts assigned along the road. I grabbed a loose grey cardigan and a box before I opened the door to the balcony and was greeted by cool gush of winds, made me shiver.

I threw a look at my left side and the same anguish knocked my heart. The house next door was dark, not a single light penetrated the air. And the house that used to be so boisterous was silent, no more glasses cracking, pans sizzling, stereos and sometimes the TV so loud it irked me and the most remarkable was, no more the happy and infectious laughter. As a neighbor, I used to be so ballistic over those but it turned to be my elixir.

Taking a seat, I breathed out a deep, desolate sighs as I opened the box I was embracing. Inside, there were two austere envelopes, each received in a span of a month since three months ago. I took the first one and carefully unfolded it, not leaving any ugly traces. It read,

“Dear Hani,

    I’m not eligible to be your walls anymore, go find yourself a good listener. I’m sure a lot of good people around you (for instance, a friend of mine called Taehyung).

Jimin.”

It was raining cats and dogs on that day, perfect for my great dire. My only family which was my dad had passed away, obscurely left me alone with no relatives. Cliché except it was true. Despondently, I cried out my heart, not caring how my shoulders jumped wildly to the coldness and how my bottom was numb from sitting on the cold floor of my balcony for too long, secretly hoping the rain would wash the pain away.

My sobs were inaudible as it weren’t great competitor for the heavy rain that smashed the earth like bullets. But it certainly couldn’t hinder the guy next door from curiously staring at me and weirdly, the heavy rain didn’t sink in his inquisitive voice.

“Are you okay?” He shouted from his balcony, trying hard to make it audible.

He was sipping a cup of coffee, it was steaming hot, and his concerned gaze didn’t leave me.

“Tell me about it.” The rain gradually subsided, making way for his sonorous voice to reach my ears easily. He sat down on the cold floor of his balcony and placed the mug in front of him. Pulling in his brown sweater, he smiled warmly as to persuade me to spill everything.

There were doubts, but I ended up popping my conjured up bottle of feelings to him whom I didn’t know was my neighbor. He attentively listened in lieu of asking questions, a fathomable action I thought. But it wasn’t, he was just a good listener. Subsequently, we shared cascades of stories and problems as time flew by. As I narrated mine, he was all ears and would reply with adulations which left me bashful.

“I mean they can make their own drinks why they have to bother me?!” I complained about my colleagues who loved to pest me around for coffees or teas even when I was busy with my own work. I huffed angrily while Jimin just chuckled.

“Because you make the best coffee ever! I’d love to wake up to it every morning.” He replied while taking my mug I was holding in hands and shamelessly gulped it. He winked and smiled sweetly before walking away with my mug, leaving me flabbergasted. My cheeks were flushed red.

I reached out for the second envelope and repeated the same intricate actions as I did before. For the umpteenth time, the second hand-written letter triggered a fervid laugh from my mouth. Myriad of advice but he chose the ludicrous one. However, if it wasn’t for my oblivion then he wouldn’t point this out.

“Dear Hani,

    Please eat on time. You can’t knock on my door for food for ever. Learn to cook and shop for groceries or give a call to Jin, we both know he’s a dexterous cook. Don’t starve!

Jimin.”

“It’s not like I don’t know how to cook.” I annoyingly grunted as a forlorn memory unfurled at the back of my mind.

Hunger was eating me alive. Not even a pack of instant noodles to save me from starvation and the fridge was blowing cool winds, it was totally bare. The survival instinct led me to the house next door and with a slight shame, I hesitatingly knocked on his door, scintillating commiseration in my eyes as I asked for food. He was dumbfounded.

One day, I forgot to buy groceries so the kitchen was empty, again. I remembered it was late midnight and I wasn’t brave enough to go out by myself. Nearby deliveries didn’t do delivery anymore after midnight so I had no choice to starve until the next morning. But I hadn’t eaten since noon and my stomach couldn’t take the pressure.

So I unwillingly moved my feet to the house next door again.

“Were you sleeping?” I asked, feeling guilty for waking him up.

“No I wasn’t.”

Jimin was sleeping, I could tell from his hoarse voice and his pair of eyes struggling to open in the sudden touch of light.

“What’s wro-“ He didn’t manage to question as I suddenly fell onto him, feeling all my energy had drained as I closed my eyes and I didn’t remember anything.

I woke up the next morning with Jimin beside me. My cheeks were flushed red.

From the day onwards, he was kind enough to ask if I’d eaten and if I hadn’t, to join him. Sometimes he’d say he accidentally cook a lot and would share with me so I, being the foodie, would accept it with veneration. Once, when we ate some seafood, I tried to be humorous.

“Thank you for warming the cockles of my heart.”

There was a stound of silence before he finally discerned the joke.

A month passed by after the last letter. I had been vigilant for a new one, if there was. But the rain hadn’t stopped and like the sun was nowhere to be seen behind the thick clouds, I didn’t see any chance for a new letter. Until a knock was heard on my door.

A familiar cursive handwriting emblazoned on the envelope. Trembling, I couldn’t contain my anticipation upon receiving the letter. My eyes suddenly filled like a dam, waiting to be extricated. The letter was simple and it will be the last – a hunch, an epiphany. As I neatly placed it in the box along with the two, beads of tears flowing down like an endless cascade. The last letter tainted a bittersweet feeling and I couldn’t perceive why. Or perhaps I did.

“Dear Hani,

    Remember me.

Jimin.

P/s: I love you.”

Truth to be told, Jimin abruptly disappeared. I didn’t know what happened to him. He didn’t even say good bye to me.

It was like every other morning except he wasn’t by his front door sipping coffee and greeting me like he always did, and I did find it was suspicious but I didn’t want to think it through. Maybe he was still sleeping or he went for morning jog.

But the same thing replayed for a whole week, and I missed him.

So I knocked on his door for the whole day, calling his name and impatiently stomping my feet, hoping for his face to pop up and that goofy smile I didn’t see for a week to be plastered on his face.

But the door never opened.

It had been three months. I was dying to see his warm smile that could melt my problems away, I was dying to look into his brown eyes that made my frowns became laughs, I was dying to feel his soft hands on my hands again, and most importantly I was dying to say the words I never had the courage to say before.

“I love you too.”