The sky was dark by the time you walked to the rows of metal mailboxes that lined the wall underneath your apartment building. It had been a long day at work, and you were beyond tired. But you were also expecting a package that you had ordered to arrive in the mail that day, so you trudged to the little square with your unit number engraved in red.

You took a deep breath and forced your key into the lock, jiggling it ferociously. A change in the lock was long due, but you were always too lazy to call a locksmith and get it done. A neighbour passed by and stared as you struggled with the lock. You smiled at him sheepishly while bowing in greeting, just as the key finally fit in place. You twisted it, swinging the little door open in triumph.

You grabbed the little brown package immediately, causing the bits of spam and advertising leaflets to cascade down onto the floor. You sighed, glad that your neighbour had already gone up to his apartment and wasn't there to witness another embarrassing moment of yours.

You knelt down, setting your bag aside as you picked up the pieces of paper and stacked them up, ready to throw them all - until you noticed a small white envelope with nothing but the words "to you" etched in black ink on the bottom right corner. You picked it up and threw the rest of the unimportant junk mail into the recycling bin adjacent to the mailboxes.

Stepping into your apartment, you dropped your belongings haphazardly around the hall - you did not care much for keeping the place kempt, since you lived alone. You switched on the lights in the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of water before settling on the couch in the hall which was only sparsely lit by the light coming from the kitchen.

You opened your package, checking that the nail polish you ordered were in good condition. You checked that everything you bought was there in one piece, but your eyes eventually fell on the piece of parchment on the table.

You picked the white envelope up, turning it over curiously as you set your glass down on the mahogony coffee table. Inside the envelope were four smaller pieces of folded paper, each with the name of a season written on them.

Spring. Summer. Autumn. Winter.

You looked at the four sheets of paper, wondering which to open first. You eventually went with spring, since it was the season that had just arrived. And spring was always more of a 'start', right?

The piece of paper was also slightly more yellowed and worn around the edges compared to the other three pieces of paper. It was probably the oldest, then. You opened the paper and immediately realised why the penmanship looked so familiar.

It was his handwriting. Without a doubt.

Written on the paper was a poem of sorts:

Inside these walls, i hide a secret

Secretive though I never was.
Though so many of others'
I keep within
Like a treasure chest
Lying underneath the depths of my skin

Like a vault
Of gold and silver
InVisible to all
Encrypted, unseen

Yet the one secret
One that I call my own
Unkept and unburied, in these words I speak

You couldn't quite decipher it first, it didn't make much sense to you. It always frustrated you, how he loved to speak in riddles and rhymes. But that was one of the things about him that charmed you all the same. But you were history, so there was no point thinking about that. 

But what was this rubbish? The poem went on and on about having a secret, being able to keep secrets and whatnot. But that last stanza... so, the secret was being revealed, then. But what secret? There was nothing more to the poem after that last line.

You pondered on what he could possibly mean, staring at the poem for a few minutes. And that's when you noticed. Every first letter, or capitalized letter, from each line in the poem formed a sentence.

And before you realised, a single tear slid from your right eye down your cheek.

Stupid, stupid Brian. Why send this to you? One year after you broke up. You look at the other three pieces of paper as realisation dawned on you. Spring, summer, autumn, winter.

You broke up at the end of winter the year before. This poem, written in spring, must have been right after your break-up. But then... What did the rest of the 'seasons' say?

A/N: heya guys like i said before, I've decided to throw in some poetry. This is actually an idea for a chaptered fic I've been having for a while. Tell me what yall think? Also I'm writing this from the perspective of the reader but if I do get the chaptered fic up and running it'll be in Young K's perspective (and maybe I'll post reader perspective ones here) so let me know what yall think about it in the comments! As usual, stay awesome, and keep stanning Day6.