1,500 messages.

Was the amount of mails Clover and I had exchanged for the past four weeks. It was strange, how a month quickly passed by. A month, and my sleeping pattern and insomnia were in its worst condition yet; a month—with 1,500 messages to boot—and yet no progress.

He was still the mysterious Clover, and I was the amusing Thunder. From those letters, however, I learned he favored tea more than coffee and cats more than dogs. He was, all in all, the complete opposite of me. That made him even more interesting in my eyes.

It was around midnight somewhere in August when I felt something clench my heart for the first time.

I’m going on hiatus.

-Clover

I stared at his latest letter, unable to comprehend the simple sentence. Swallowing the unexpected lump in my throat, I said:

Okay. Hurry back, and stay alive.

-Thunder

I had no idea why I added the latter part. Maybe because I perceived him to be a lonely guy; maybe because I was afraid he’d end up being those bloggers I came in contact with, who killed themselves after a couple of months; maybe because I’d miss him.

I can’t promise you that, because accidents can happen to me anytime. I can promise I won’t kill myself on purpose, though. I’ll return to you, don’t worry.

-Clover

I couldn’t help but scoff at his reply. He told me back then he was someone who rarely made promises, and if he did, he’d keep it no matter what; he told me only death could keep him from fulfilling his promise. I guess from that moment on, I saw him to be a person with a noble character. No matter how cynical he sounded like, the noble urge he held pulled me in deeper, and it made me curious about the person behind Clover all the more.

I’ll trust you on your word, then. When will you be back?

-Thunder

I’m not sure, but you make me wish I never went on hiatus in the first place.

-Clover

Then don’t, I thought.

It’s okay. You’ll return, anyway. It’s only a matter of time.

-Thunder

During those moments, I never expected two weeks to feel like forever. I never received any mails from him, and I never bothered typing. Perhaps, my feminine pride got the better of me. I had to give myself a congratulatory pat on the back, though, for being able to sleep and wake up on time for fourteen straight days.

<:>

“Sunggyu,” I called out one day, while we were reading a book in one of the university’s gazebo.

He glanced at me, and said, “What?”

I bit my lower lip, and listened to the chirps of the cicadas. The vines climbing up the gazebo’s posts were at its greenest, and the balmy wind caressed my face. Finally gaining the courage to speak out, I asked, “What do you call two strangers who exchanged 1,500 letters with each other?”

He looked up to think, and answered, “Acquaintances?”

I shook my head slowly. “That’s not really the word I’m looking for.”

Sunggyu shrugged, and added, “Bored people?”

“Bored people,” I repeated. “I guess that rings a bell.”

“Why are you asking this, anyway?” he inquired.

“Just because,” I replied, while retreating back to the comfort of the world in the book I was reading at that time.

“You don’t sleep and miss out on classes nowadays,” Sunggyu remarked.

“You think?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

I smiled, and didn’t reply anymore.

I found out another thing about Clover: he was extremely bored.

<:>

I was resting. I had no idea where, but my back was leaning against something sturdy. I was asleep, then, when I felt something brush against my hand. I paid no attention to it, but soon, my hand got engulfed by something warm and it made my heart want to burst. I wanted to open my eyes, but I chose not to, out of fear. I was afraid, because that certain warmth may drift away from me. I breathed in deeply, and smelled something crisp and fresh—like winter. I then realized someone took the vacant space beside me.

“Do you trust me?” I heard myself ask that person.

“I do,” the guy answered. “But not fully.”

“Can you trust me fully?”

“A little trust from me goes a long way,” he returned.

“So the answer is no?” I asked again.

“I can never give my full trust to people,” he answered.

I scoffed. “You’re so vague.”

“I guess I am.”

Silence.

“Hey,” he said.

“What?”

“I can see ourselves being in a café somewhere, while talking about nothing and everything all at once.”

“You do?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he answered. “You with your coffee, and I with my tea; isn’t that scenario grand?”

“I guess you could say that,” I replied.

“But first,” he muttered.

“But first what?”

He scoffed, and said, “You have to wake up.”

<:>

The warmth from my hand vanished, and my headache returned. It felt like its sole mission was to crush my skull as slowly and painfully as possible. It was doing a good job at it, to be honest. I slowly rose up from my bed, stretching and taking the time to think. I looked around my room, and noticed the stacks of empty cup noodles beside my laptop, together with my whole collection of mugs pushed to the very back of the table—some were even used as paperweights. I wasn’t able to vacuum my floor for weeks, and pieces of paper—both used and unused—were all cluttered on the floor.

It was a Saturday, and miraculously enough, I woke up before the clock noon. I d for my phone, and saw I received several messages from my Mom.

Hana, clean your apartment.

Hana, make sure you still have food in your fridge. Don’t try to buy several packs of coffee all at once again!

Hana, withdraw the money I sent you today.

Hana, I love you.

I smiled, and decided to call her. As expected, my call got diverted to her voicemail. After hearing her lovely voice and after the distinct beep, I said, “I love you, too, Mom.”

And that was that.

<:>

It was somewhere around two in the afternoon when I headed out of my flimsy apartment to head to town. I was relieved because the moment I arrived in the stop, the bus was already approaching. Albeit it was a Saturday, the vehicle was crowded. I placed my card in front of the scanner and tried to locate a vacant seat afterwards. I was surprised, however, to see a guy with a messy mop of dark hair and slightly chubby cheeks wave at me. He was wearing a plain white shirt, then.

“It’s free over here!” he said, while waving his arms around. I cocked my head to a side, but seeing how crowded it was, and how I didn’t feel anything ‘wrong’ with the stranger, I decided to accept his offer. He scooted nearer to the window, the smile not vanishing from his lips.

“So where are you off to?” he amicably asked.

I looked at him, a little weary, but I replied, “Somewhere.”

“Good enough,” he said, grinning. Something rolled out from his bag sitting on his lap, and he dove to get it. At that moment, I smelled a familiar scent.

Something crisp and fresh…like winter.

Ohoho. Do you really think that Sunggyu's a caring friend? ^^;

Jess! I've a slight idea on the anime you're talking about, but I can only remember Menma (?) and the guy who has a crush on her. The one with the messy hair OTL I haven't really watched it yet, tbh OTL

lol iD0RKIE stop reading in class akshdkasdh