Back then, I was the one in my family to collect the mail. After parking my Yamaha scooter, I'd push open the front door, and before stepping across the threshold, I'd bend down to pick up the assortment of envelopes and papers that had been dropped through the slot. Leafing through, I usually found utility bills or announcements from city hall, maybe some flyers for specials on curry roux at the corner grocer.

About every couple of weeks, there'd be a letter from Jungkook. 

I promptly tucked this away in the front pocket of my backpack. I used to read these letters right away, but I found myself losing track of the entire night. My perception of time got away from me as I studied the scrawl of his penmanship, imagining him forming the Hangul, by diligent . I pondered where he might've been while he wrote it. Waiting for the bus outside his high school in Roppongi? About to tuck into an order of soba at the shack near the metro station? Or was he just looking for an excuse to space out during Algebra lectures?

Instead, I'd save his letters for the next morning. My alarm was set for 6:00, but when I knew I could look forward to reading a letter from him, my body instinctively woke up 10 minutes earlier. I allowed myself those 10 minutes to get lost in thoughts of him. Once the alarm sounded its insistent droning, it was on with my day as usual.

I met him at the start of our last year at junior high. He had moved to Tokyo suddenly. To this day, I still haven't learned what compelled him and his father to leave Korea. Come to think of it, I never remembered his mother being around. It was probably all one collective sore spot for him. 

We gravitated toward each other because we were both foreigners, surely that was one reason. On the other hand, we also had some of the same affinities which made our match feel all the more natural. Just as an example, we both liked extra nori with our ramen. Some would say we requested an unreasonable amount of extra nori. But since we each had the backing of the other, neither he nor I ever felt embarrassed about ordering more from the waitress. Provided there weren't club activities after school, he and I both preferred the library to the game center or shopping mall. We didn't read the same type of books (he was more into Kenzaburo Oe, whereas I had taken a liking to Hemingway), nor did we even talk much. But again, it was more a matter of just being there with each other.

He started writing to me the summer after our graduation, after I moved here. 

"Dear Taehyung

It's been a while, hasn't it? The summer here has been especially hot this year. I think you caught a bit of a break moving out to Tochigi. I hear it's much cooler.

Do you have much memory still of the summers here? Can you recall the melting hot pavement? The shimmering skyscrapers? The freezing cold air conditioning in department stores and trains?

The last time we saw each other was at commencement. It's already been several months since then.

Taehyung, do you still remember me?"

"Dear Taehyung,

Thanks so much for writing back. It made me genuinely happy to receive your letter. 

Fall is here, and all the leaves are turning red. The scenery looks so beautiful. 

The other day, I pulled my sweater out of the closet for the first time.

I got my hair cut the other day. It's short enough now that you can see my ears. If you saw me again, you maybe wouldn't recognize me.

I'm sure you're changing too. Little by little. Aren't you?"

"Dear Taehyung,

Are you doing well during these cold days? I saw on the news it's snowed a few times in Tochigi already. I hope you're remembering your scarf before you head outside.

It still hasn't snowed in Tokyo yet.

I was surprised to hear you're moving after this year. Even though you might be used to it by now, this is still very soon.

Kagoshima seems so far. It's not the kind of distance where I can just hop on a train to meet you. It's kind of sad.

I really hope you're doing well, wherever you are."

"Dear Taehyung,

I'm so happy you're coming to see me on March 4. It'll be one year since I last saw you.

It's funny. I feel kind of nervous.

Thank you for coming all this way just to see me. But it's really far, so please be careful. I'll be in the station's waiting room at 7:00. Just like we planned.

Here's what I wish: I wish you could bring the springtime with you."

As the school bell rang to dismiss us students on that afternoon on March 4, I unfortunately hadn't taken with me the springtime that Jungkook had been asking for. All I had was my herringbone coat with standard school uniform underneath, along with a messenger bag that bore a half-drunk bottle of Pocari Sweat and maybe 500 yen in loose change (if I was lucky). I had to wonder what our reunion would be like, how we'd greet each other. Who would say hello first? What would we talk about? Where would we go after the station? 

I should've been considering everything that was to come for the days after we'd meet, how it would be for all the days I'd never see him again.

It started snowing in the evening, on the day that Jungkook and I promised to meet.