Just when the night sky looked so crisp amongst the city's bright skyline, it echoes.

His head whips back, his eyes also glaring back to his shelves. Each second of his panicked glance makes his sunset eyes glisten under the moonlight. It was only to his fortune that the sound of shattering was not from his unit, nor did it come from his precious vases.

The striking sound of the shattering ceramic vase was from the apartment unit above him.

For a time of ten o' clock in the evening, it wasn't for this perfectionist to ponder why something shattered to the ground, as if it was on purpose.

He just wanted his sleep. Though Kimmel's curiosity gets the best of him.

Almost all goes numb suddenly. Closing his eyes, he feels almost every pulse. Every single current runs through his senses, as if each electrical wire sends a chill up his back.

The five words chant over his head. It seemed like an involuntary skill for him to peek through the wires and cables of the entire apartment, like he's the center of the system, like he actually was a part of it all. Surveillance cameras were as if visions to him, speakers were like his ears.

Cries resonate to his senses, and the weeping voice calls his eyes to blink open.

It didn't take long for him to worry, though such was never really his nature, especially for an emotion to be for a next-floor neighbor.

Damn tea for the first time, he's too worried to be sleeping.

Kimmel Caser can't sleep with innocent wailing noises.

.

He doesn't bother making himself tidy, nor changing his clothes, nor even taking the stairs. It's too late for him to stress his body. Besides, all he just wanted to do was console the woman, then hopefully nothing more.

It's not him to exactly intrude, especially when knowing very little of others' lives. Just get this over with, he wanted to mutter. I have no idea what to say but maybe it will just come out of my mouth, he also told himself.

Knocking on her door, however, was a slip. Goodness knows he didn't plan that.

Kimmel Caser, there was a doorbell.

The door opens right with him fidgeting with his feet awkwardly. At the creak of the door, his eyes look to her. His hair was unkempt, though her wasn't that different either. Compared to Kimmel's orange locks, hers were purple, long on one side, short on the other. Neither were her eyes of the same color, one green and one in deep, clear violet. He wasn't the type to analyze people in the middle of the night. But it shows. Her legs tremble, cold and weak, unlike her warm and fuzzy sweater.

Like every inch of her stood as north and south, east and west, only one thing remained the same for her.

The girl tries to hide it, her chin lowers to the collar of her sweater. Holding her breath, she also tries holding tears. She doesn't smile outside and cry inside.

"You...okay, miss? I heard  a vase-" If one thing was a lie, it was his call. He didn't mean, "miss." Of course he knew her name. Liezel. He's read her name from the computer logbook documents.

Not that he meant to do that, obviously.

Liezel's voice is merely a croak. A bare breath escaping her lips. "I...I think your ears are playing tricks on you, sir," she mutters in between sniffs. She's a decent secret-keeper, just not to Kimmel.

Never can anyone lie in front of Kimmel, honestly.

It was perhaps a mistake for her to speak. Especially with Kimmel just asking her about a vase. Her voice cracks again. "Thanks for caring, sir. That's...quite nice of you...I...just need to get back in."

It was her final whimper before closing the door once more. Even with the door closed, her tears trickle down again, her head bellowing with question. Who even is he? Why does he care?

Why does he care?

It was another lie. Of course she also knew who he is. Kimmel Caser, that man on the lower ground. She wanted to lie, still, with her fingers brushing up to her hair. She wanted to make it clear she was fine. This is Mr. Caser we're talking about. He's got quite the soft spot for women. She wanted to tell him that maybe it was nothing, or she didn't hear a thing, or it must've been the wind.

That's a pathetic lie, Liezel. Though I'll get away with it. You can tell him that later.

Because of course he'll come back later.

.

And of course he comes back.

Liezel doesn't waste time opening the door, she's awake anyway. She's never liked being there for the sake of feelings, though all spur of events take her deciding on a whim.

She's gone like a recorder now. A machine playing almost the same thing over and over again, only with her eyes leaking of sadness. "I...really think it may be your ears...sir," she tries chuckling, her head bowed down again. "Thanks for asking, sir...It's pretty nice of you, but I need...to go back in." Her eyes were pleading for him to just go. She tries to push the door back out.

"Wait, miss...Uhm..."

Everything feels like a halt. The door doesn't swing shut. The cold air felt freezing. None of them wanted to talk. They just wanted to be there.

There. Kimmel just wanted to be there.

Liezel is the first to mutter. Her eyes divert from the man on her door. She can't bother to look. She makes a curtain with her hair. At this point, Kimmel can't see how her eyes are of different colors.

And how her eyes are not that different from his.

Her voice stops shaking. It whispers through the small space on the door. One little nudge, it'll be shut. None of them wanted to nudge. None of them wanted anything more.

They just wanted to be there. No more. No less. Or at least for the time being.

Just being there...was enough.

Liezel sighs. "Wish I could tell you about the noise...but I didn't hear a thing."

It was a lie. Kimmel knows that.

"Must've...been the wind..."

There's no wind. It was just cold. The freezing, icy cold.

She nudges the door shut. She wants to cry again. She cries more.

Why does he care?

Why did I close the door?

Against the door, she leans, tearing up more. On the other side, Kimmel has a hand raised toward the doorknob. For a man of a few words, he knows how to say he doesn't want her to go.

This isn't him. He knows that. It's eleven thirty-five.

Why am I awake? I drink tea when I need sleep. I'm not doing that now, am I?

.

Morning then pours down the horizon and into Kimmel's and Liezel's balconies, and the sun rises. Liezel tosses and turns in bed, her sweater still on, her legs against her soft quilt.

It feels like a dream, she opens her eyes directly to the sun, the tears have dried up on her nose. The wind comes, setting her curtains floating in the air. It hums. But the city sings.

The steady piano flows to her room, up from the balcony to her very bed.

Sometimes in our lives we all have pain
We all have sorrow...But if we are wise...
We know that there's always tomorrow...

It carries her off her cushions, she heads for the balcony. Like a lost soul being called, she looks up. No, down.

Lean on me, when you're not strong...And I'll be your friend...

Kimmel with a boom box. The orange-head, playing an old song. On his speakers. In full volume.

I'll help you carry on...For it won't be long...'Til I'm gonna need...Somebody to lean on...

He's just standing there, leaning by his balcony rails. He doesn't stare up, for he can't even see. All he can do is to wait. For a sign, a signal, a bell.

Or a knock.

Please swallow your pride...

Kimmel scrambles, grappling on the doorknob, finding Liezel with crossed arms, her eyes glaring at the doorbell.

He sees her eyes. Green and violet. Eyes full of life and mystery. She talks plainly. "What's with the music, eh? What're you trying to do?" Her lips perk up, as if she's bantering.

"Look, I swear, I promise I'm not playing tricks on you," Kimmel tries to stutter. His finger lines his shirt collar. He clears his throat. "I mean, uh, you're always welcome to...come in...if you...need a friend for an hour or two..."

The words slide out faster than he can think.

What on Earth are you doing, Kimmel?

Liezel, with arms still crossed, steps in slowly, glaring at her slippers. "Well, I'm not saying no, Mr. Caser. But you're a fair amount of weird."

Her eyes gaze to his balcony. To the speaker. It gets louder.

She looks back. Her eyes widen.

"Now why the hell are you dancing?

"Stop it...I don't even know you so I can say you're bad at it..."

If I have things you need to borrow...For no one can fill those of your needs...That you won't let show...

The music fuzzes off of Liezel's ears. Only her eyes struggle to wake, they struggle to open, still they see Kimmel swaying about. Her eyes grow heavier. They're sore from crying. She doesn't feel Kimmel's hands taking hers gently.

She doesn't smile. Kimmel wants her to dance.

We all need somebody to lean on...

If only Kimmel can tell her outright. Lean on somebody. Not a door, for god's sake. Lean on a person, not a thing that shuts you out from the rest of the world.

If you need a friend...it doesn't have to necessarily be me.

But here I am.

Liezel can't think. Her forehead rests on his shoulders.

The electric pulses return. The five words chant once again.

"As Long As I'm Here."