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I noticed them, on a Sunday, as unremarkable as every other day of the week, at least for an old man like myself. They moved in the neighborhood, right next to my home, no grand declaration, no ceremony. Just a car parked on the side road, a few boxes, two people sharing giggles as the sound of laughter slipped through the quiet afternoon air.
They were a couple. Or at least that was how it felt like to me. That’s the only way I can put it, years of observing others telling me this was the only possible conclusion. They were simple, no constant touching, no obsessive jealousy, just being comfortable in each other’s presence.
The boy – I mean, the man – is like a ray of sunshine, with bright yellow hair, always messy as if it had a mind of its own. (I guess that’s why he kept it short so it’s less noticeable) The other girl/ guy? (I honestly confuse myself) is a strange one, with eyes shining bright like the moon illuminated the empty sky. They walked barefoot more often than not, as if shoes were a suggestion rather than a rule.
From what I saw, the gloomy fellow loved flowers, especially those yellow daffodils. Whenever the sunny one returned home, they would spend the night talking and having dinner by the balcony, sharing casual stories of their daily lives to each other, or just nothing important. How would anything important could even be discussed in such a light-hearted tone, between them? On occasions, they wouldn’t say a single word, together, close but not clinging. Dark hair would have their gaze up on the sky, or linger on the flowers, while yellow head would just stare at the moon. In a case like his, the moon in the sky couldn’t even earn a glance.
I’d watch from my window, pretending to read the paper. They reminded me of something I couldn’t quite name. Not love, exactly—love is too loud of a word. It was… comfort. The kind you wouldn’t notice until it’s gone.
I told myself they were uninteresting.
But I kept watching anyway.
Not until a week later came a knock on my front door. I wasn’t expecting anyone. For a lone man like me, people tended to only come knocking when they wanted something — unpaid bills, old debts, or news that something went wrong around the neighbourhood. I opened the door, chain still on, just in case.
A tall figure appeared before my door, hands holding a small paper bag.
“Lovely afternoon to you” the man said, lips forming a smile. “Pardon our intrusion. We have just moved here recently. Please take this as our welcome gift, we made it ourselves.”
He handed me the paper bag as he looked at me, eyes sparkling, leaving me no chance to decline.
The other person was hiding behind him, hand tucking the corner of his shirt. Their eyes, peeking over his shoulders, were already wandering past me, seemingly examining the quiet of my home.
“I’m Elliot,” the man said enthusiastically as I took the gift. “And this is Two Time, my partner.”
Two Time smiled, a bit crooked and forced, raising their hand up slightly as to greet me.
I hadn’t heard my own name spoken by a stranger in a long while. I told them anyway. Elliot continued his conversation with me, asking about work and hobbies. Two Time glanced at the old photos on my wall, the worn floor, the silence that lived in the house, and for a moment I felt seen in a way I hadn’t expected.
“We hope to get along with everyone ‘round here.” Elliot laughed while Two Time just nodded along.
They didn’t stay long. Said they didn’t want to impose.
When the door closed again, the house felt quieter than before.
And for the first time in years, I wondered when they might knock again.
Closing the door behind me, I sat down at the couch, thinking back on the earlier interaction.
“Two Time, quite a unique name.” I said to myself. “And Elliot, he seems to be quite friendly,...and a talkative guy.”
They complimented each other well, I supposed. Two Time was a strange person, but maybe because I hadn't got to know them the way Elliot did.
After that day, Elliot and Two Time stopped being strangers.
They waved whenever they saw me through the window. Elliot always waved too hard, like he was afraid I might miss it. Two Time’s wave was subtler—just a tilt of the head, a small smile, each time felt more genuine, more casual. Somehow, they always knew when I was watching.
Their lives unfolded in pieces, the way most lives do. I learned them through repetition. Through habit.
Two Time always cared for the flowers, meticulously and patiently like those flowers were their flesh and blood. Elliot sometimes offered to help them, but he seemed a bit clumsy while doing so. Two Time corrected him without words, reaching over to adjust the angle of the watering can, or moving a pot into better sunlight.
On the other hand, Elliot was a great cook. Being the manager of the local pizzeria, he was always in charge of the kitchen. I got to taste his cooking on days, and even without trying the food, just watching the way Two Time’s eyes lit up, the way their hand reached for Elliot’s had already told me all I needed.
The weekend was usually when they went out shopping. Two Time would stay at home half of the time, though, if they didn't, they would return with too many things they wouldn't need. Elliot, however, brought the groceries and necessary utilities.
I watched them walking through the street from my balcony, Elliot smiling and commenting on Two Time being too innocent toward scamming schemes.
“You can’t just believe every single ‘limited-time’ offer.” He would laugh while looking at the absurd number of cookie boxes Two Time bought.
“But well, you would stop me if I actually did something stupid, wouldn’t you?” Two Time would reply, calmly, while casting a quick glance over the man.
Another thing I noticed about the couple was how strange they were.
Two Time seemed to be fond of the rain.
The first time it poured after the couple moved in, I had expected that they would rush inside the house, just like any normal human would. I couldn’t be more wrong.
As the rain began pouring down, Two Time stepped out onto the balcony, barefoot, palms open. They stood under the grey sky, letting the rain soaked through their black hair, through their thin shirt, through everything. Elliot would lean by the doorframe, watching the other enjoying the downpour. He would brew some tea while waiting for his partner, staring at their silhouette as they enjoyed the silence of the rain.
It was a mutual understanding between them, not a single word was spoken during moments like that. Elliot would watch Two Time the way a man watched a miracle he couldn’t understand unfold. Two Time would close their eyes, feeling the rain seeping in their skin, face titling upward as if the sky was telling them a sacred secret.
My heart soon became different as I heard the sound of raindrops beating against the window.
One evening, the sky cracked open, loud and unashamed. The rain was smashing onto the heads of the crowd as people sought shelters and hurried home. I stood at my window, watching the scene, expecting my usual view.
Then I heard a knock on my front door.
Elliot stood on my porch, drenched, laughing. Two Time behind him, rainwater dripping across their pale skin.
“Power’s out,” Elliot laughed awkwardly.. “We haven’t got the power line checked carefully yet, and we couldn’t get inside…”
For a brief second, they stood at my doorway, both of them. Water trickling down from their fingertips before falling onto my wooden floor in soft, guilty taps.
“...can we stay over until the sky returns to its beautiful blue?” Two Time glanced over Elliot’s shoulders, same crooked smile.
Looking back, I didn’t know why I did it. But at that moment, I stepped aside.
They entered my house with the smell of rain and something alive, as if the sky had split open and followed them inside.
I handed them towels, and almost immediately, Elliot turned to his partner.
“You’re freezing.” he said, draping the towel over Two Time, not letting the other protest.
Two Time muttered a quick “Thank you,” toward me before letting their sunshine carry away all the raindrops.
He pressed the towel over their hair, squeezing the rainwater out in slow, careful motions, then moved to their shoulders, rubbing warmth back into their skin as if afraid the storm might still claim them.
Two Time stood still, blinking up at him, rain dripping from their lashes. There was something soft in their expression—not surprise, not embarrassment. Just familiarity. The familiarity from multiple times Elliot caressed them after the storm, embracing them away from the cold rain.
Only after he was satisfied—after checking their face, their hands, even their bare feet—did he roughly drag the other towel through his own yellow hair, patting himself down.
We sat together while the storm raged. I made tea. Elliot talked. Two Time listened. I just then realised how long it had been since my table had known voices.
“Do you like the rain?” Two Time suddenly spoke, voice a bit hoarse from the cold, hand still holding my cookies.
I almost said no.
But I realized I didn’t know anymore.
When Elliot and Two Time came in, they brought the rain and the sun with them. Yet they didn’t know, and I didn’t know either. Until now.
It was warmth. The love that was moving through my home. It was care made visible. It was the quiet, instinctive way one person makes sure the other is safe before tending to themselves. It was the comforting silence shared between people, the casual touch and momentarily bickering.
Something inside my chest shifted, or maybe it had long been changed.
Not envy.
Not sorrow.
Memory.
My house, once silent and careful, now echoed with laughter. For a brief moment, I was no longer a lone old man watching life from a distance.
I was part of it.
When the rain softened, they didn’t leave immediately. Elliot helped fix a loose hinge on my cabinet. Two Time rearranged the flowers in an old vase I had forgotten on the table.
As the sky cleared, Two Time turned to me.
“Would you like to join us for dinner later?”
“Sure.” I smiled, waving back at the couple as they left, hands intertwined.
I had forgotten how gentle love could look.
Until now.