A.N. The 'you' in Adele's Love in the Dark inspired most portion of this one-shot. Enjoy :]

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Son Seungwan

It has started out like this, me making way to the coffee shop down the street near my apartment, initially wanting to have a quiet me time, away from my family, who wouldn't shut up about me finally coming back home.

I remember the short walk there, the brown paint its owner keeps for so many year, the iced cappuccino that used to cost me five dollars or so. And, of course, I remember that it used to be your favorite place. That you often went there every other Wednesday and Friday to have a taste on your usual, black coffee with no sugar, while you typed away on your laptop.

What I don't know is that it still is your favorite place.

And I see you there, at your favorite corner, next to the big glass window, with your old, purple-cased laptop before you. I've always wondered why you like it there. Maybe because it's the farthest corner in the coffee shop and not so many people choose to sit there, making it a perfect place for someone looking for some privacy. Some privacy in their own world. Someone like you.

Then again, I would see how the sun outside is able to reach your figure, illuminating that focused expression of yours that has its all attention on that story you're typing down on your laptop. It's like observing an art on display at the museum, and I find myself unable to look away. Beautiful, I think to myself, and I can sense the universe sneering down at me. The 'yeah, you're welcome' kind of sneer.

I'm reminded that it's Friday today, you see. Your usual day to visit the coffee shop, my unusual day to get my iced cappuccino. And just like that first time, you're here again, at your usual spot that happens to be my favorite hiding place, blinding me with your out-of-this-world beauty.

Nothing has changed, I guess.

I take one step forward and greet the owner with a smile. She still recognizes me, I can tell, her face beaming like a child as soon as she realizes it's me ordering. It's on the house, she says, handing me the cup. And I thank her, grateful that for once someone finally treats me the same, like I've never been gone.

Unlike my family who couldn't stop talking about it, my mother making many different kinds of homemade food, my father inviting relatives for a 'small' celebration party later this Saturday. After all the years I spent aboard, the last thing I want is to be reminded how long I've been away.

And I wonder how you would react once you see me.

My father, not long after I landed in Canada—I even hadn't made myself comfortable in the apartment—called, asking if I would want his cousin to come over and help me unpacking. It was four years ago today, but I can still recall the reluctance in his voice, that edgy tone as if waiting for me to admit that I regretted my decision to study aboard, just so he could book the earliest flight to bring me back home.

The acknowledgement never escaped my mouth, you know? You probably don't, but then no one does. I regret it. I regret my decision to leave Seoul then, and more than that, I regret never coming back in the span of those four years. I regret only coming back now. I regret it all, because not until after I got rid of my jetlag that I realized four years in Canada equaled to four yours not seeing you. I regret it because, Joohyun, my dear, I missed you.

I miss you.

Which most probably is something I'm alone suffering from. This longing. This terrible feeling of knowing that it's merely a one-sided phenomenon, with me everyday refraining myself from dialing your number and asking my parents if they had seen you around and you—I don't know, moving on with your life? Meeting new people? Befriending them who were much better of a friend that I was?—the possibility, it's eating me.

Because you never called; you may hit me later for blaming this all on you, because I was the one who never told you my number. I was the one who left with no goodbye. And still, this childish and selfish side of me was upset, angry with you for you n