The classroom hummed quietly, the soft scratching of pencils and the occasional page flip blending into the lazy rhythm of a midweek afternoon. Outside, sunlight poured through the open windows, filtered by the light green leaves of early summer.
Aera shifted in her seat, her eyes drifting from the board to the boy beside her. Daewon was hunched slightly over his desk, the edge of his sketchbook peeking from under his arm. She had seen it before - always closed or facing away, always private - but today, it was left open, just enough to tempt a glance.
Her gaze lowered, curiosity blooming like a quiet whisper. Her breath caught.
The page was filled with soft pencil strokes - gentle outlines of an umbrella, droplets of rain, and then… her.
She blinked, heart skipping.
It wasn't just any drawing. It was her, caught mid-laugh, a breeze tugging at her hair, eyes crinkled with light she didn't know she had. It was… beautiful.
And warm. And real.
Aera looked up quickly, cheeks warm, unsure if she'd been caught. But Daewon was still staring ahead, tapping the end of his pencil against his notebook, deep in thought.
She lowered her gaze again, just for a second. There were more sketches. Her walking with her umbrella. Her glancing out the window. The quiet way she sat in art class.
It felt like seeing herself through someone else's eyes - through his eyes.
Before she could pull away, Daewon turned slightly, reaching to adjust his sketchbook. His hand brushed hers - barely, but enough.
Aera froze. He did too.
Their hands lingered for a second longer than they needed to, and when their eyes met, something soft and charged passed between them. Not words. Just warmth. A spark. The kind that stayed even after fingers pulled away.
Daewon cleared his throat quietly. "Sorry."
Aera shook her head, her voice quieter than usual. "It's okay."
Neither of them moved for a moment.
And for the rest of the class, even as they turned back to their assignments, the air between them was filled with something new.
Something tender.
The lunch bell rang, its cheerful chime snapping the classroom out of its quiet haze. Chairs scraped gently against the floor as students began gathering their lunchboxes or filing out toward the cafeteria.
Daewon stayed in his seat for a moment, his fingers still tingling from the earlier touch. He shook his head, trying to look normal as Junho plopped down beside him with a carton of banana milk and a wide grin.
"Dude," Junho said, unwrapping his kimbap like he was unlocking a treasure. "You looked like your soul left your body just now. What happened? Did Mr. Seo assign surprise math homework or something?"
Daewon blinked. "Huh? No. Just… thinking."
"Thinking?" Junho arched an eyebrow. "That's dangerous. You only think that hard when it involves two things - art or Aera."
Daewon nearly choked on his water. "What? No - I mean, not like that."
"Oh, definitely like that," Junho teased, elbowing him playfully. "I saw her walk by earlier. You looked like a deer in headlights."
Daewon groaned, pulling his hoodie over his head like a turtle hiding in its shell. "You're imagining things."
"Right. And I'm secretly a K-drama lead with tragic amnesia," Junho snorted. "Come on, man. You're so obvious. Even Hyejin from Class 2-1 asked me if you and Aera were a thing."
Daewon's head shot up. "She did?! What did you say?"
"I told her you're a hopeless case," Junho said, smirking. "But in a cute, almost poetic way."
Daewon sighed, resting his chin on his arms. "It's not like I can just say anything. It's not that simple."
"Why not?" Junho said, popping a piece of fried chicken into his mouth. "You're partners for the project. That's, like, fate. Textbook stuff. Rain, art, umbrellas - dude, it's basically a romance webtoon."
Daewon didn't answer right away. His mind drifted back to the sketchbook, to her eyes, to that brief brush of fingers.
"Maybe," he said quietly. "But what if I mess it up?"
Junho paused, looking at him more gently now. "Then you draw it again," he said. "You're good at that, aren't you?"
Daewon smiled, small and sincere.
"Yeah," he said. "I guess I am."
The bell for the afternoon period chimed gently, and the students shuffled back into their classrooms after lunch, their laughter and sleepy yawns filling the air. The warm light from outside streamed through the windows, making the classroom feel soft and drowsy, like a scene from a memory.
"Alright, everyone," Mr. Seo clapped once to gather attention. "For the next hour, we'll continue with self-study or silent project time. Use it wisely."
The room quickly settled. Some students brought out textbooks, others whispered about plans for the weekend behind their notebooks.
Daewon slid his sketchbook out of his bag without really thinking. Just as he opened to a clean page, he heard the faint sound of a chair moving beside him. He glanced up.
Aera.
She had returned with a small stack of reference books from the library. Her hair was slightly tousled by the breeze from the hallway window. She sat beside him quietly, her eyes focused, flipping through a book titled "Stories in the Rain."
"We could write something like this," she whispered, leaning slightly toward him and showing a page. "A simple story. About two people who always meet when it rains."
Daewon stared at the page… then at her fingers, just centimeters from his own.
"I like that," he said. "Maybe one of them carries a blue umbrella."
She smiled at that, soft and quiet. "That would be you, then."
Daewon's heart skipped again.
For the next thirty minutes, they worked side by side in calm silence. Aera jotted down notes in her delicate handwriting while Daewon sketched a few rough scenes: cobblestones wet with rain, a boy standing at a bus stop, a girl holding a blue umbrella, waiting.
Their rhythm was peaceful. Unspoken, yet in sync.
A paper crane sat between them by the time the bell rang, folded from one of Daewon's scrap papers.
"Did you make that?" Aera asked.
Daewon nodded, a little shy. "I do it when I can't focus."
"It's cute," she said, gently pressing the wings flat. "You're full of little surprises."
He opened his mouth, unsure of what to say, but before he could answer, Aera was already gathering her things.
"I'll text you later?" she asked softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Yeah," he said, his voice caught in his throat. "I'll be waiting."
She smiled - blue, soft, like a petal floating on water - and walked away, leaving the crane behind.
That evening, the sky over Haneul-dong was painted in fading lavender hues, the warmth of summer still lingering in the air. Daewon lay on his bed, sketchbook open beside him, staring at the soft glow of his phone screen.
[LINE – Yoo Aera]
Aera: Hey, are you still awake?
Daewon: Yeah.
Aera: I was rereading our notes. I think the blue umbrella idea is really pretty.
Daewon: I think so too. It suits you.
Aera: Me? But I'm not the one carrying the umbrella.
Daewon: No, but… you're the reason someone would carry one at all.
There was a pause. The three gray dots blinked on and off for a while.
[LINE – Yoo Aera]
Aera: …That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me today.
Daewon: Really?
Aera: Mm. I mean it.
Aera: You're… kind of nice when you're not being awkward.
Daewon: That's unfair. I'm always awkward.
Aera: Haha. True.
Daewon smiled at his screen, feeling warmth crawl up his cheeks. His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a second.
Daewon: I liked sitting next to you today.
Aera: I liked it too.
Aera: …It felt easy. Like we weren't just doing a project.
He read that line over and over, heart thudding.
Daewon: Yeah. Like… maybe we're friends now?
Aera: Maybe.
Aera: Or maybe something softer. Like the start of a story.
He didn't know how to respond to that right away. So he drew something instead - a quick sketch of a girl under a blue umbrella, smiling just a little.
He sent the photo.
Aera: Is that me?
Daewon: Maybe.
Aera: You're always sketching quietly, but I never knew you were seeing me.
Daewon: I always see you.
The typing dots appeared… then disappeared.
Aera: Good night, Kang Daewon.
Daewon: Good night, Yoo Aera.
He set the phone down, heart full. The paper crane still sat on his desk, its wings glowing under the dim lamplight.