Last night, the heavy rain came back, and it brought along some thunders with it as well, made it a perfect time to shoot a horror-themed movie. Unexaggeratedly, the wind howled and it sounded like a group of wolves cried out toward another colony out there in the woods. The thunders light out the sky in some miliseconds before it growled in anger, as if the bright sun and sparkling stars days ago made them berserk.

Yerim hadn't seen Yoongi since that morning, he seemed to be away during the day, his window kept shut until later in the evening when Yerim was downstairs helping her Mom to prepare themselves a dinner. By the time the dinner was over and she went back inside her bedroom upstairs, the storm started, and nothing but the light in Yoongi's bedroom seen through his tight-closed window and the sound from his boom box signed his presence.

She bet that he was too busy calming himself down from the thought about burglars and stuffs, curling himself on his bed, underneath his blanket she once saw when they had their talks. The song that had been playing since the storm started was barely audible among the noises, though she could still feel the beat his boom box made every now and then.

Funny how Yerim wasn't pleased by the fact that the boy she wanted so bad to stay away from at first, hadn't speak a word to her the whole day. Not after his two-month stay, not with the developed topics they had every day. Out of boredom from not being able to sleep with so many noises outside the house, Yerim got up from her bed and took a sit on her desk. Despite the howling winds and the whispering sound the trees made as they shook, her room felt quiet.

Usually, around this hour, Yoongi would literally described her an A to Z series of random things. Like what other genres of music he liked, what was his favorite dish, how he loved vanilla compared to any other flavors for ice cream, and how he was head over sneakers for coffee.

Yerim opened her notebook and took a pencil from the Pepsi Cola can she had transformed into a pencil case, then began to draw some random lines here and there, later formed themselves into a face of a boy.

"Cold coffee, precisely. I love having cold coffee in the morning, don't even care whether or not it's raining or snowing outside," his voice popped up in her mind. Her hand moves swiftly to bolder the lines before she moved on to his ears, his eyebrows, his eyes, his small eyes.

"I just love how it affects what I feel, it's like a fuel to me, you know. Ice Macchiato is the best, like, you can leave me in an abandoned island with tons of Macchiato and a giant fridge, and I'll be alright."

As she recalled the conversation, the storm faded, and soon enough, the noises were replaced by peaceful drops of what were left from the rains. It felt even more quiet now that the storm was gone, and after awhile she realized, so did the sound from Yoongi's boom box. She leaned forward toward her window to take a peek from the tiniest crack it had just to find out that the light in his bedroom was still on. Has he fall asleep?

The pressure her elbows added on her table made it sounded like it cringed in pain, and just as soon as it happened, the boy spoke, "Kim Yerim?"

What was heard next was the sound of him opening his bedroom window with a long crack as it swung outside, so Yerim did the same to hers. Yoongi looked even paler that night, cold sweats dropped nervously from his forehead, and his eyes looked terrified. "I almost died," was all he said to answer Yerim's questioning look.

She couldn't help but to let out a giggle as she shook her head in disbelief, her fingers let the pencil she was holding go, made it roll slowly on the table until it hit the wall and stopped, then tucked the hairs fell on a side of her face behind her ears. "Now, what?"

Yoongi took a sit on his desk before he began what he was good at: talking, describing things. "You know that moment when this thunder hit with what sounded like a mad groan, I swear I heard a knock on my window! It couldn't be you, no matter how fearless you are about the storm and such, you wouldn't crawl all the way here just to give me a knock, right? Then I saw it, when the lightning hit again, a silhouette of a man's hand, he groaned, he said he was ready to take me back to hell..."

"It's probably just tree branches."

"...Kim Yerim," he sighed, looked deeply upset in a joking manner, "you ruined my story! All I need is some dramatic 3 seconds and a long sigh before I tell you that it was just tree branches." He shouted at her in annoyance, his eyes grew wider and she could see that not only dark and deep, his eyes also got some sparkles in it whenever he talked, and it caused her warmth. "So yeah, it was just tree branches, like you said. But I think it's also God's way to warn me that Summer Break will be over in a month or so, and... Yes, dragged back to hell, right?"

Just like how he would just go on with himself, didn't bother waiting for Yerim to utter a word, he went on and on, "I think we should make the best out of the last month of this God-knows-how-precious Summer Break. We can go to my favorite coffee shop near the Duterde Station, I'll buy you all coffees they have and let you choose which among them is the best, though I bet you would agree that Ice Macchiato is."

"I don't drink coffee, Yoongi," she said. Her eyebrows twinched in disagreement.

"How come anyone don't drink coffee? Have you try a coffee so bad that you decided yourself you don't like it or... Worse, you haven't try at all?"

"...Uh," she let the word hang in such tone, "the latter."

He gasped, in an exaggerating way, "Are you kidding me?" He then shook his head, his palms brushed against each other as he did so.

"So, what? Coffee doesn't even look that good with its pitch black surface," she said, defending herself.

"It's not about the look! Haven't anyone tell you not to judge a book by its cover? To judge a coffee is to smell," he sniffed, "and taste it." He his thin upper lips as his hand went outside to reach out to his window, prepared to closed it back. Yerim has got used to it, him ending each and every conversation anytime he liked, left her alone, confused, with his door shut.

"Tomorrow, 9 AM, Duterde Station. It's not a date so don't dress like one," he swung the door inside, and just before it was closed, he continued, "though it's fine with me if you want it to be one."

The bedroom light went off as soon as the window made a light thump when it was shut. That night, not only confused, Yoongi had left her with hot-boiling cheeks, wasn't sure whether she was too pissed, or that his last sentence fluttered her. With her windows closed the following minute, she sat back on her desk, and her eyes stopped at the raw sketch she just made. What have you done, Yerim? Quickly, she closed her notebook and climbed up onto her bed.

Now that the storm was gone and the room was quiet for real, she wasn't sure whether or not she would be able to sleep any sooner.