The following days, it almost seemed like nothing happened. I went to school at days, came back in the afternoon, took a shower and then started sketching. And then I'd sleep.

The only difference was Sungyeol, of course.

I didn't see him much – all I knew that he was awake during nights, and slept during days, much like an owl. When I asked him if he would always do this, if he had this kind of routine, he replied with a yes. Truth be told, I didn't know if he went to school. But I guess he didn't, which was interesting because I was pretty sure that he was the same age with me. Nevertheless, I didn't ask him anything regarding this, because he was a stranger, and I didn't know a single thing about him, except the fact that his name was Sungyeol and that he was one head taller than me and that he liked to stay awake at night.

(It was better that way. I wouldn't be all that attached to him, then, if I only knew some basic facts about him.)

I usually didn't see him when I came home – I could only catch a glimpse of him when he went to the bathroom to take a shower. In the beginning, he only wore the clothes I gave him, but once his clothes dried, he started wearing only them. I found it a bit silly, because who in the earth would wear the same thing for one week straight? But that was the thing that made Sungyeol, Sungyeol, I guessed.

Sungyeol who was one head taller than me was awake during nights and wore the same things over and over again.

(One fact more.)

-

On the sixth day after the unusual meeting, I was quite surprised when I saw Sungyeol sitting on the kitchen table and eating some ramen. When he saw me, he flashed a little smile (which did look way nicer than the first time he had smiled.)

"Oh, Nam Woohyun-sshi, hi there," he greeted me. "I made some ramen, so have a seat and eat."

I almost wanted to laugh at his greeting, because it sounded like I was the guest and he the host and not the other way round. But I did obey him, and sat down. Sungyeol put some of the noodles on my plate, and continued eating.

"Thanks," I said, and took a bite of it. It wasn't bad, but it lacked of salt. (But I kept this to myself.) "When did you make the ramen?" I asked.

It was stupid, wasn't it? I could've said wittily, oh, it's been so long I almost couldn't recognize you, or why are you even awake it isn't even evening, anything like that, but I asked him, when did you make the ramen. How stupid I was.

"A few minutes ago," he replied. Judging from his calm face, he didn't quite look like he found it as stupid as I did.

I couldn't help but ask, "When did you wake up?"

"When I woke up? Half an hour ago." There was a pause. "Why, is there something wrong?"

"Ah, no, of course it isn't," I replied. "Truthfully, I haven't seen you properly, because you wake up late, and that's why I was a bit… surprised."

"Oh?" He chuckled.  "I see. People say that I've become quite predictable these days, so it's surprising to me that you say that I surprised you. Surprising means that it's unpredictable, right?"

For me, Sungyeol was extremely unpredictable, but that was because I didn't know him well. But there was another fact that I learned.

He used to be unpredictable.

There was this pause, again, and I almost wanted to ask him why he became unpredictable, but it felt quite wrong to ask – maybe it was because I didn't like to ask too many questions regarding privacy – so I didn't ask. But in fact, there were so many questions I could ask Sungyeol. Probably too much that I couldn't say that he didn't interest me. (He actually did.) So I asked a simple question.

"What do you actually do at nights?"

Sungyeol looked at me – it was the first time that those teardrop-shaped black eyes looked at me directly. Then, out of nowhere, he started laughing. It wasn't a real burst of laughter, but rather an ironical laughter, quite weird and polarizing with the baritone voice of his. I furrowed my eyebrows. It wasn't like I asked something stupid, right? It was a simple question, that's all. Maybe he was just weird and had a strange taste of humor.

"Oh, Nam Woohyun-sshi, I haven't thought you were this funny, really," he said. "Actually, you aren't funny, but the last thing you said is quite amusing in my eyes."

"The last question?"

"Yes. I've already had a hunch of it, and you just proved it. Just in time when I wanted to ask."

I waited for his answer.

"Don't get me wrong, but for me, it seems like you live in your own little world, in your own imagination. You aren't aware of your environment, only of your feelings and thoughts. They fill up the world that should actually be a compilation of your five senses – seeing, feeling, hearing, smelling, tasting. I'm not saying that you shouldn't look at your inner life, but be aware of the outer life, as well. Because the thing is, you don't see things that are right before your eyes!" He chuckled again. "So my advice is – open your eyes, Nam Woohyun."

I didn't quite realize the fact that he dropped the –sshi, because Sungyeol's advice was like a smack.

Open your eyes.

Was I really this selfish? Have I really forgotten to take care of the outer world, just because of a simple abandonment that happened two years ago? Was I really that numb and stupid? I averted Sungyeol's honest gaze and tried to come up with something, anything, which would be a proper answer. I could've gone the distant road with, why do you even care you don't know  a single thing about me so mind your own business, or the aggressive type with yah what do you think you are you crazy beggar, or could say half-heartedly, I am aware of my environment, but apparently, I wasn't.

So I averted his gaze and stared at the noodles which didn't look delicious at all. They didn't have salt, after all.

"Don't take it too much at heart," Sungyeol continued and broke the weird silence, "It's just a mere thought from a mere stranger, that's all. I don't know you; you don't know me, right? It could be different as well."

"I guess said words can't be returned," I said briefly.

"That's true. Once it's out, you can't take it back, no matter how much you like to." Sungyeol nodded, and did as if nothing had happened.

But said words can't be returned.

-

Instead of the usual routine, where I would sketch at evenings, I found myself sitting  at the kitchen table with Sungyeol, while he wrote.

But my routine was pretty much messed up, anyways, ever since Sungyeol had fainted in front of me.

I watched him, silently, watched his black eyes moving constantly, in union with his hand which held the fountain pen, a concentrated look on his face. Once in a while, he would strike words like crazy, and write anew, and once, he even tossed the whole sheet of paper away. I asked him why he liked to write on paper, and he gave me this answer.

"Well, I have to feel my words, after all. Just like you have to feel the pencil in your hand while drawing, the paper you write on, and hear the scratching sound of the pencils, right?"

I didn't ask how he knew that I liked to make sketches – after all, it was me who went through the world with eyes closed.

"Right. But many authors tend to write on laptops."

"It's convenient, and when you give your manuscript to the publishing house, it has to be in digital form. But the idea, the soul of the story, develops only when you write it with paper, in my opinion at least. But I'm pretty old fashioned with this idea." He gave a lighthearted chuckle, and I somehow felt that Sungyeol was a guy who would open up pretty quickly. Ever since our first meeting, he had said more and more with every passing day. I wondered if he was a person who revealed himself quickly.

Sungyeol who was one head taller than me loved to write at nights, wore the same things over and over again, and was talkative.

I wondered what he knew about me already.

"It's fine, since I'm old fashioned, also. People draw with tablets, now. But paper – paper has a history, and I want that my drawings share this history, too."

Sungyeol chuckled, this time out of amusement. "I don't think that the paper you're writing on is hundred years old."

"But the tree which served as resource, is, maybe."

"True." He chuckled again. "Do you usually win debates like these?" he asked, then.

"Well, it depends, I guess. When I'm in the mood, maybe. But mostly, my best friend wins them."

"Why?"

I chuckled this time, when the image of my best friend popped out in my mind. "Even though he has small eyes," I told the tall boy, "he knows how to look fierce. Sometimes he speaks with his eyes. Speaking as in orders. Sometimes he says things like, do you want to die? with his eyes, it gets creepy. And with small eyes, I really mean small eyes. As mall as a hamster."

Sungyeol seriously laughed this time – it was the first time that I heard him laughing. It sounded bright and beautiful, like the sun on summer days. If his laughter would have a color, it would be a bright orange.

"He seems like a pretty awesome friend," he answered.

"He is," I confirmed.

"It's good that you have such nice friends."

"I hope you have, too." I wondered why I said it, really, when I now think about it. Given the fact that I was pretty selfish at that time – during the beginning from our friendship – the fact that I asked him something in return, simply out of curiosity, is plain interesting in my eyes now. The thing I've said – I hope you have, too, sounds, after those happenings, rather something Sungyeol would say. But not Woohyun. Not this Woohyun.

His eyes became a bit blurry, as if the clouds would gather around for the rain, but in the next moment, they had the clear look from before, and he said, "Yes, I have."

"That's nice to hear."

"Well, one of those friends is you, Woohyun-sshi. Really. Even when you think you aren't."

"Thank you," I replied, but I couldn't say,  you're one of my friends, too, because I knew him too less. I mean, it was only six days where we lived together.

"I know," Sungyeol said, as if he would read my thoughts. "I know that I'm not your friend, yet, because it's only been six days. But think it over again, Woohyun-sshi. It's been six days. People die in six days. People fall in love in six days. People become friends in less than six days, though I wouldn't say that they're close, then." He paused. "You have an interestingly pessimistic way in looking at life."

I nodded. "It just got onto me, when I got older. Though I'd not say that I'm pessimistic, I would rather say that I'm realistic, that's all."

"If you'd been realistic, you would know that six days is a pretty long time." There was this testy hint in Sungyeol's eyes, this spark of anger, but it vanished extremely fast, so I could also be my imagination, too.

"I know." I stood up, because the silence wasn't comforting, but rather annoying, and I knew a discussion would happen, but even if wouldn't, there would be still this annoying, pressing silence that would last heavily on both of our shoulders. I had a way of sensing this, you see.

"By the way, you dropped the Nam," I said, just to loosen up the atmosphere.

"You surely are meticulous, " Sungyeol answered and his mouth curved up to a little grin. I smiled back.

"Good night," I said.

"Good night," he replied.

At bed, I laid down, with no intentions of closing my eyes, and heard the baritone voice saying over and over again: Think it over again. It's been six days.

a/n: Raincallers got onto me. It's the chilling rain after hot work, the calming breeze after tough drabbles and tough hotness. Wow, interesting. And I'd say to this – so far so good! Considering the fact that I finished this after Destiny got released.

have a nice day, elly.