“You looked like crap earlier,” Suji remarked. “Did something happen?”

   Her shift finally ended, but instead of resting, she took a quick shower and sat me down in their living room as we had coffee. Haneul was already asleep.

   “What do you mean by that?” I returned.

   “You looked more lethargic than usual.”

   “Lethargic, huh?” I looked up, and sighed. “Have I told you about my neighbor yet?”

   “That’s an easy question,” she raised her right hand before joining the tips of her index finger and thumb together for emphasis. She breathed in, and exhaled. “No.”

   “I helped her out with her hanging shelf, and she gave me a succulent in return. The next thing I know, I would stay in her place to just…talk.”

   “And?”

   “She has a dog, too.”

   “And?”

   I shrugged. “I actually enjoy spending time with her. But I guess our last conversation made me think of things.”

   “Things like what?”

   “She mentioned friendship, and vulnerability.”

   “Your weak points,” Suji commented.

   “I suppose,” I muttered. “But how did I get to trust you, Suji?”

   “You’re the one who can answer that, to be honest,” she replied. “But how about you? What made you trust me?”

   We both pondered on her question. I was able to trust Suji to that degree, because I saw her in a different light that one time. She was neither in her crisp uniform nor answering the teacher’s most difficult questions without missing a beat. From a self-assured and approachable model student, the Suji that I saw on that day was wearing a maternity dress. And she saw me, wearing a black suit with an armband. Perhaps, it was the degree of our respective situation which urged me to open up to her. I figured there was no use hiding, because I saw her, and she saw me. The next thing I knew, we would meet up and have conversations I never thought I’d have again.

   Our relationship stayed platonic, and that was what I loved about it. There was no pressure whatsoever between the two of us. Soon, I became comfortable around her, and I found myself beginning to rely on her.

   “I saw you as someone who would understand.” I concluded.

   “You answered me in just eight words,” she pointed out. “So why are you so caught up with this neighbor of yours?”

   “Because I have a feeling that she would understand, as well.”

   “Why do you seem so scared of that?” Suji pushed.

   “I actually am scared,” I admitted. “Because…”

   “Hm?”

   “Building relationships take work.”

   “Yeah. So?”

   Yeah. So?

   I looked at her, but her eyes reflected earnest curiosity.

   I my lower lip, and repeated, “Relationships take work.”

   “Yeah,” Suji reiterated. “So?”

   Knowing her, she wouldn’t give in. I sighed, and said, “I just don’t want to build something, only for it to end up in rubbles. I don’t want that kind of pain in my life again.”

   “Let me ask you something, Namjoon. With your approach right now, has the pain of the past fully left you?”

   A pause. “No. Not really.”

   “So what’s stopping you? You can’t walk on eggshells all your life. You were able to be good friends with me. Why can’t you do the same to your neighbor?”

   “If I open up to her—and I mean really open up to her—then I’m going to return to square one.”

   “Square one,” she parroted.

   I nodded. “It would feel like all progress I’ve made won’t matter, because I’ll return to where I started.”

   “Maybe you feel that way,” she began. “Because instead of facing those things, you merely buried them.”

   I didn’t respond.

   “From the way you talk,” she said, ever so carefully. “It feels like she’s connected to your past—or at least, the people in your past.”

   “Her family was the one who adopted Jeongguk,” I confessed.

   Silence.

   “So…” Suji took a sip from her mug and placed it back on the coaster. “You feel uneasy because she knows Jeongguk, and you think that when you open up to her, everything else will follow?”

   I nodded. “If I were to maintain my friendship with her, it would only be a matter of time before she’d find out about everyone—about Yoongi…about Jin…”

   “Namjoon,” she began. “May your past not rob you of your present.”

   “Bae Suji,” I said.

   “What?”

   “How do you maintain that kind of outlook in your life?”

   “Well,” she looked up briefly. “It depends on the person, but for me, I had to lose it, before I get to maintain it. Hm…I had to experience both, before deciding, ‘Ah, I am not happy in this state of mind. I prefer the way I looked at things before.’”

   “What made you return?”

   “That’s a no-brainer!” she grinned at me. “Haneul, of course. I don’t want him to grow up in a negative environment. It isn’t healthy for the both of us.”

   “I see.”

   “And besides,” she carried on. “No amount of sulking or self-loathing will undo the past. It already happened. I could even argue that it had to happen. What other choice do I have but to move forward?”

   “It’s easy to talk like that when you’re already past the situation.”

   “That’s true,” she agreed. “But it doesn’t mean that other things won’t arise. You have to use what you’ve learned in the past to grow in the present.”

   “And what happens in the future?”

   “You become a better person.”

   “Are we really of the same age?” I said. “It feels like I have to keep up with you whenever we talk.”

   “That’s a good thing, Namjoon. It means we can still flourish in this friendship. And I know you won’t understand these things I’m saying just yet, but it will make sense, soon enough. All you have to do is open your heart.”

   “It’s easier said than done.”

   “It’s just one thing,” she returned. “And you’re more than capable of doing that, only if you let yourself.”

///

   Perhaps, what made me subscribe to Chul was when he posted that certain comic strip at that time. It was quite short, and it showed a man coming home from work one day. He crawled into his bed, and a shadow followed him, embracing him.

   “Welcome home,” the shadow said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

   “I need you to leave,” the man replied.

   The shadow then smirked, and responded, “Do you really want me to?”

   The man didn’t say anything, and together, they slept.

   Afterwards, I began to wonder if I found some sense of comfort in being sad. That perhaps, despite thinking I wanted things to get better, a small part of me kept on sabotaging my progress, because I was scared. I was scared of not feeling empty anymore. It was a strange and impossible concept for me. It could go two ways: either I’d feel worse, or I would, in all actuality, be happy for once. The latter was out of the question. Because if things were supposed to be that way—if I actually deserved to be happy, then things would have worked out by now.

   But they didn’t.

   I entered my living room and was greeted by predictable silence. I turned the lights on, and headed towards the succulent. I watered it, and thought about getting a pet. Perhaps, looking after something would keep me busy and distract me from the shadow sitting quietly in the corner, consistently welcoming me home.

///

   Dahyun sent me a message the following weekend, asking me if I was busy. I replied I wasn’t, and if she needed help with anything.

   No, but I made too much cake. Oh, and you don’t have to bring anything.

   I smirked at her response, before informing her I would be coming over. For some odd reason, I anticipated for her message. I could always drop by as before, but the conversation we had the last time lingered in my mind. It was self-centered of me, but if that situation ever occurred again, I wanted to comfort myself by saying I wasn’t responsible for that, because Dahyun was the one who invited me over in the first place. It was a poor excuse, admittedly.

   I changed into a pair of jogging pants and a plain shirt before leaving my apartment. The moment I knocked the door, I could hear Sundae running around and barking. Dahyun shushed her pet before opening the door. She had her hair tied up in a loose bun, and there were smudges of paint on her face and clothes. She was wearing a denim jumper with a yellow shirt underneath.

   “What are you…doing?” I managed to ask.

   She grinned, and welcomed me in. The windows and the sliding door leading to the veranda were wide open, letting the balmy wind in.

   “I dug up my old canvas and these paints I forgot about, so I’m using them now.”

   I looked at the easel behind her. The canvas was facing the other way.

   “Drawing what?”

   “Take a look.”

   I walked towards her work space, which was her living room, basically. The newspapers she laid down on the floor rustled beneath my feet with each step I took. Her furniture was relocated in one corner.

   I had a better look at the canvas, and paused. It was just an unfinished painting of oceanwater, but the colors made me stare for a bit longer. She used different shades of aquamarine and the color white. Nevertheless, the way the light hit the water made me feel like I was there.

   I felt the gentle waves lapping against my legs, along with the smell of saltwater and the warmth of the sun.

   I felt at peace.

   “What made you draw this?” I asked.

   She smiled. “Those are the only shades available. What do you think? Lately, I’ve been attempting hyperrealism.”

   “If you’re done with it,” I said. “May I buy it?”

   “I’ll give it to you.”

   “Here, you spent time—”

   “It’s nothing but a draft,” Dahyun interrupted. “I am still not satisfied with this one. Do you like it that much?”

   I smiled. “Yeah. The water looks peaceful.”

   “Was the ocean always so turbulent for you?”

   I paused, finally realizing I carelessly gave something away. It wasn’t the ocean that was restless. All these years, it had always been what was inside of my chest, flailing with reckless abandon. I always stared at the still waters back then, but my soul found no rest in that.

   “Turbulent,” I echoed. “Maybe. But do you know what gets me, Dahyun? I’ve seen giant waves before, breaking and swallowing things. I was scared. I really was. Still, I can’t look away, because somehow, I’m also amazed.”

   “How so?”

   “I’m not sure myself,” I admitted. “I find wonder in that feeling.”

   “What feeling?”

   “Impermanence.”

   Silence.

   “To be at awe in the face of impermanence,” she remarked. “That’s an interesting thought—very human, too.”

   “Has the waters always been still for you?” I blurted out.

   “Still or turbulent, it doesn’t matter,” she looked at me. “I’ll rise above it nonetheless.”

   “What makes you so sure?”

   She smiled. “I really can’t explain it without being spiritual. Will you be okay with that?”

   “Yeah.”

   “Okay. So, there’s this passage in the Bible where Jesus walked on water. Crazy, right?”

   I shrugged, and she mentioned something about me being too polite before setting the easel aside. I helped her move the couch to its original position, and she said thanks as she urged me to sit down while heading to the kitchen to wash her hands. She poured still water into the kettle and switched it on.

   “When the disciples saw him walking on water at four in the morning, they were terrified, thinking it was a ghost. But he reassured them, and Peter—he can be quite the character—boldly said, ‘If it’s you, tell me to come to you on the water.’

   “And so Jesus said, ‘Come.’

   Peter got out of the boat and started to walk towards Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he became afraid and he began to sink. Jesus quickly grabbed his hand and asked, ‘Why did you doubt?’”

   Silence.

   “You know,” she said. “It was always on the back of mind. What, exactly, did Peter doubt?”

   “Why?”

   “Peter didn’t doubt Jesus’ power or identity. That was what made him step out of the boat in the first place. Growing older, though, I think I’m beginning to understand, even just a little.

   “I think what Peter doubted was whether or not Jesus would sustain him.”

   “Have you ever felt that way?” I asked.

   She grinned, before reaching out to a container where she kept her tea. “Many times. That’s why, I’ve decided to walk on the word.”

   “To walk on the word,” I echoed.

   “Yeah,” she said. “To walk on the word given to you, and to hold on to it. For Peter, it was ‘Come’. For me, it is that I will make people happy with the things I draw one day.”

   “So, a dream?”

   “It started off as a dream, but it ended up becoming a promise. I think, what I’m going through now is not being able to believe if I will achieve that. Because despite my feelings or situation, I know I will. I think it’s a matter of me trusting when that’ll happen. It’s easier to trust one’s ability than their timing, after all. What about you, Namjoon?”

   “What about me?”

   “Was there any dream of yours that ended up becoming a promise?”

   I blinked, and fixed my eyes on my hands. I saw flashes of sunlight, making the surface of the sea glimmer like diamonds. I heard carefree laughter, and muffled humming from a distance, accompanied by the strumming of a guitar. There was the tinkling of windchimes, and the sound of a pen scratching against a piece of paper.

   “They stayed as dreams,” I said, and the last word formed a huge lump in my throat. I had to swallow to keep my tears from falling. I saw myself standing in front of a mahogany door, with my hand wrapped around the golden knob.

   “Hey, Dahyun.” I clutched it tight, and twisted it.

   “What are the things you know about Jeonggeuk?”

   I had, finally, pushed the door open.

   I had decided to not doubt the peace I subconsciously dreamed of whenever I was with Dahyun. I secretly hoped for that dream to be a promise.