Jimin’s hands grazed over the rims of the now cold coffee cup. He exhaled as he looked out at the rain drops sliding down the window in a messy pattern, interfering with each other’s paths as they went. It wasn’t supposed to rain today, it wasn’t supposed to rain any day this week. But as Jimin was walking along the park near his house the wind started picking up and droplets of water started pouring on him. Slowly thunder and lightning came as if to join the fun and a storm was now erupting from the grey sky of Seoul. Why today, Jimin thought, any day but today.

He closed his eyes and listened to the vigorous sounds of the wind picking up outside. He might not be able to go home tonight seeing that he didn’t even think about bringing his umbrella and the jacket he had put on was far too thin to protect himself from a storm. Jimin put his freezing hands inside his pockets to keep them warm and at that moment his fingers touched something, the thing that he was most afraid of, the thing that he couldn’t gather the courage up to look at. He took out the white envelope, crumbled at the corners due to the horrible post handling and bit his lips. On the front was messy writing addressing that the letter was to him, Park Jimin. He knows that writing anywhere. He’s received enough posts from Yoongi to recognize any of his letters and cried enough to know that he could never handle reading them. That’s why Jimin comes out to the park every Wednesday. Because Wednesday is when the post arrives. Wednesday is when, without doubt, there would be a letter in his box. Wednesday is when he tries not to cry his eyes out while reading the letter with trembling fingers. Jimin’s learnt to hate Wednesday as the months passed by. And today was no different.