There was no official announcement that the week would be important.
No teacher stood at the front of the classroom and told them to remember it.
No one put a special date on the calendar.
As far as Haneul Middle School was concerned, it was simply another week.
But Daewon noticed something on Monday morning.
The classroom looked different.
Not because anything had changed.
Because he had started noticing how temporary everything was.
The seating arrangement.
The posters on the wall.
The small scratches on the desks.
The names written on the whiteboard.
Even the sunlight coming through the windows.
He had seen all of these things hundreds of times.
But suddenly, he was aware that they wouldn't always be there.
The thought came without warning.
He didn't like it.
Not because he was afraid.
Because it made ordinary things feel strangely valuable.
During the first lesson, their teacher announced that the school would begin preparing for the next academic term soon.
There would be new schedules.
New classroom assignments.
New seating arrangements.
Some students might move to different homerooms.
The room immediately became noisy.
"Wait."
Seojun raised his hand.
"Different classroom?"
"Yes."
"Can we request our own seats?"
"No."
"Can we request our own teacher?"
"No."
"Can we request a different school?"
The teacher stared at him.
"No."
Seojun lowered his hand.
"Worth trying."
The class laughed.
Daewon didn't.
He looked at Aera.
She was looking at the board.
Their eyes met.
Neither said anything.
They both knew what it meant.
Eventually, things changed.
They had known that for years.
Still, hearing it announced made it feel closer.
At lunch, Aera brought her notebook to the rooftop.
Daewon was already there.
He was drawing the school building.
She sat beside him.
"You're drawing school again."
"I know."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
Aera opened her notebook.
"Maybe you do."
Daewon glanced at her.
She showed him the page.
There were several small observations from the previous week.
The painted hallway.
The reading shelter.
The missing notebook.
The photograph she almost forgot.
The old drawing of Aera.
She had written them all down.
Daewon smiled.
"You're collecting things."
"Maybe."
"For what?"
"I don't know."
He nodded.
They ate lunch quietly.
After a while, Aera said,
"What if we aren't in the same class next year?"
Daewon looked at her.
"We might not be."
"I know."
"What would change?"
"Probably a lot."
She looked down.
"We wouldn't sit near each other every day."
"True."
"We might not eat lunch together."
"Maybe."
"We might have different classmates."
"Yeah."
Aera closed her notebook.
"That sounds strange."
Daewon thought for a while.
Then he said,
"We'd still be us."
Aera looked at him.
He wasn't saying it dramatically.
He sounded almost certain.
She smiled.
"That's a very confident answer."
"I've had practice."
"With what?"
"Being wrong."
She laughed.
The conversation became lighter after that.
They talked about summer.
About Seojun's ridiculous souvenir request.
About Minjae's plan to spend most of the break playing games.
About Haejin wanting to visit an art museum.
About Aera's Busan workshop.
About Daewon's two weeks at the youth arts center.
Nothing was decided.
Nothing needed to be.
On Tuesday, the school announced a classroom memory project.
Each class would make a small display of photographs and written memories from the year.
The teacher placed a box near the door.
"Anyone can contribute."
Seojun immediately dropped a blank piece of paper into it.
The teacher looked at him.
"What is this?"
"My memory."
"You haven't written anything."
"That's the memory."
The teacher closed her eyes.
Minjae laughed.
Aera looked at Daewon.
He smiled.
Later, she took the box to the photography room.
She and several students sorted through the submissions.
Most were simple.
A school trip.
A lunch.
A sports day.
A birthday.
A funny classroom incident.
A teacher sleeping during a staff meeting.
Someone had written:
The day Seojun fell into the flower bed.
Seojun protested when he saw it.
"That was private."
"It happened in front of everyone," Minjae said.
"That doesn't make it public."
Daewon found his own submission.
He had written:
The day we painted the hallway.
Aera looked at it.
"You chose that?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because nobody else probably will."
She smiled.
"That sounds like you."
She added her own memory.
The reading shelter and the shoes under the bench.
They placed the two notes beside each other.
Neither of them planned it.
But they noticed.
Wednesday was warmer.
The windows stayed open during lunch.
The classroom smelled faintly of dust and sunlight.
Daewon had finished another drawing.
It was the school corridor.
But instead of drawing the entire hallway, he focused on a single corner.
A wall.
A window.
A row of lockers.
Nothing else.
He showed it to Aera.
"What do you think?"
She studied it.
"It feels empty."
"That was the point."
"It doesn't feel lonely."
Daewon smiled.
"That was also the point."
Aera pointed toward the window.
"You left that blank."
"I know."
"Why?"
"I couldn't decide what was outside."
"That's okay."
She handed it back.
"You don't have to decide everything."
Daewon looked at her.
"You say that a lot."
"Because you need to hear it a lot."
He laughed.
Thursday brought a surprise.
Their teacher handed everyone a stack of old class photographs.
They were going to choose one for the classroom display.
Some were from the beginning of the school year.
Some were from months earlier.
Daewon flipped through them.
There were photographs he barely remembered taking.
There were photographs where he looked younger.
There were photographs of classmates who had become close friends.
There were photographs of people he hadn't spoken to in months.
Aera sat beside him.
She was looking through another stack.
Then she stopped.
"Look."
She showed him one.
It was from the beginning of the year.
Everyone was standing awkwardly in front of the classroom.
Daewon was near the back.
Aera was near the side.
They weren't standing together.
They weren't friends yet.
They barely knew each other.
Daewon looked at the photograph.
"That's weird."
"What?"
"We look like strangers."
Aera smiled.
"We were."
He stared at the image.
He couldn't remember the exact day.
He couldn't remember what they had talked about.
He couldn't remember what he had eaten for lunch.
But he remembered her.
Somehow, he had noticed her before he understood why.
Aera looked at him.
"What were you thinking when this was taken?"
"I don't know."
"Me neither."
They both laughed.
Then Aera looked at the photograph again.
"I wish we could remember everything."
Daewon shook his head.
"I don't."
She looked surprised.
"Why?"
"Because then we'd never have anything new to discover."
Aera thought about that.
Then nodded.
"I like that."
They placed the photograph into the display box.
Friday arrived quietly.
It was the last day before the weekend.
Nothing special happened.
There was no celebration.
No big event.
No dramatic goodbye.
After school, students slowly disappeared through the gates.
Daewon stayed behind for a few minutes.
He walked through the empty classroom.
He touched the edge of his desk.
Looked at the window.
Looked at the board.
Then at the empty chair beside him.
Aera had already left.
He took out his sketchbook.
He considered drawing the room.
But instead, he wrote one sentence.
I didn't know this was ordinary until I started thinking about losing it.
He closed the sketchbook.
Outside, Aera was waiting near the gate.
"You took a while."
"Yeah."
"What were you doing?"
"Nothing."
She smiled.
"You always say that when you were doing something."
They began walking.
The streets were warm.
The trees moved gently in the evening wind.
There was a small convenience store ahead.
Aera stopped.
"Want something?"
"Sure."
They bought drinks and sat on a bench outside.
For a while, they said nothing.
The week had been ordinary.
Maybe too ordinary.
But that was what made it difficult to describe.
Nothing had happened.
And somehow, everything had.
They had looked at old photographs.
They had found old drawings.
They had talked about changing classrooms.
They had talked about summer.
They had noticed things they normally ignored.
Aera opened her drink.
"Daewon."
"Yeah?"
"Do you remember the first time we talked?"
He thought.
"The umbrella."
"No."
"The classroom?"
"No."
"The project?"
She shook her head.
"You said something."
"What?"
"I was sitting alone."
Daewon tried to remember.
Then it came back.
He had asked if she wanted to sit with them.
Aera smiled.
"You said, 'You can sit here if you want.'"
Daewon laughed.
"That doesn't sound important."
"It was."
He looked at her.
She continued.
"I remember thinking you sounded like you didn't want me to feel like I had to."
Daewon didn't know what to say.
Aera looked down at her drink.
"I think that was the first time I felt comfortable around you."
The street noise continued around them.
Cars passed.
Someone laughed across the road.
A bicycle bell rang.
Daewon looked at her.
"I don't remember saying it."
"I do."
He smiled.
"Then I guess it's yours now."
Aera looked at him.
"What?"
"The memory."
She smiled.
"Okay."
They stayed there until the sun began to disappear behind the buildings.
Then they stood and started walking again.
Neither of them knew whether they would remember this particular Friday years later.
Maybe they would.
Maybe they wouldn't.
But for now, they were there.
And that was enough.
Summer was getting closer.
So was change.
But before either arrived, there were still ordinary days left.
And neither of them was in a hurry to leave them behind.