Seoul – Early Spring

It rained that morning.

Not the kind of rain that poured with thunder or scared you with lightning—But a soft, sleepy drizzle that made the sky look pale and the streets shimmer like glass.

Kang Daewon stood by the school gate, holding his sketchbook tight against his side. His black hoodie was already damp from the walk. He had forgotten his umbrella again. Typical.

He sighed quietly, brushing wet strands of hair off his forehead.

That’s when he saw it.

A blue umbrella.Not navy or sky-blue, but soft and pale—like the color of a dream right before you wake up.It moved gently in the rain, swaying with each step, and under it was the girl he always noticed but never talked to.

Yoo Aera.

She wasn’t talking to anyone. Just walking, holding her bag close, her black shoes splashing little puddles as she passed.

Daewon felt something stir in his chest, like a page flipping in his sketchbook.

She paused at the gate. Looked up.

Their eyes met.

Just for a second.And just like that—she smiled. A little one, soft like the rain.

Then she walked inside.

Daewon blinked. The wind brushed past him, cool and damp.

His heart said:Maybe today… something will be different.

The first class hadn’t even started yet, but Kang Daewon was already sitting by the window—His usual spot, third row from the back.The rain tapped gently against the glass, like a soft rhythm only he could hear.

He opened his sketchbook slowly.

It wasn’t a new one. The corners were bent, and a few pages were wrinkled from water stains or crumpled from nerves. But it was his world. His safe place.

And today… he turned to a blank page.

No one was watching. His classmates were loud, chatting, still waking up.Even the teacher wasn’t there yet.

He picked up his pencil.

The lines came softly at first—like a whisper.An umbrella.A girl beneath it.Eyes lowered, lips slightly parted. A calm expression.

He didn’t draw fast. He never did.

But today, his hand didn’t hesitate.The curve of her cheek.The way her bangs brushed her eyebrows.The delicate shape of her hand holding the umbrella.

He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath.

“Yah, Daewon!” someone called from the back. “Still drawing that manga stuff?”

He closed the sketchbook quickly, hiding the page like a secret.

Park Jinwoo flopped into the seat beside him, grinning.“Let me guess—your mystery crush again?”He nudged Daewon’s arm.“You gonna tell her someday, or are you planning to write a love letter through your drawings?”

Daewon didn’t answer. Just looked outside again.

A drop of water slid down the window, tracing a slow, lonely path.

He whispered, almost to himself—“…She smiled at me.”

Jinwoo paused. “Wait—who?”

Daewon shook his head, cheeks warming. “No one.”

But in his sketchbook… the girl with the blue umbrella smiled.

And maybe, just maybe… she was smiling at him.

After lunch, the sky turned even grayer. Some students stayed in, chatting over milk cartons and sticky rice, while others dared to run in the drizzle. Yoo Aera, however, sat quietly under the eaves of the art building, her blue umbrella resting beside her, not open this time.

Daewon passed by with his sketchbook clutched close.

She was humming something. Soft and pretty. He slowed.

Then it happened—his foot caught on the step. His sketchbook flew from his hands, flipping through the air.

It landed right in front of her.

Aera blinked, then gently picked it up. Her fingers brushed against the corner.

“Oh,” she said, surprised. “This is yours?”

Daewon froze. His mouth went dry. “I… uh… yeah.”

She looked at the open page. The blue umbrella. The soft smile.

Her smile.

She didn’t say anything for a moment. Just looked at the drawing, then at him.

“It’s… beautiful,” she whispered. “Did you really draw this?”

Daewon’s ears turned red. “I just… draw what I see.”

Aera looked at him closely, her eyes deep like the rainy sky. “Then I’m glad you saw me.”

The morning sunlight filtered through the classroom windows, casting soft shadows across the wooden desks. Kang Daewon sat near the middle row, pencil in hand, though the page before him remained mostly blank. A few faint lines curved into the beginnings of a sketch—a side profile, quiet and thoughtful, shaded beneath a small blue umbrella.

It wasn’t finished. He didn’t want it to be. Not yet.

He looked up for a second, just in time to catch his friend Junho plop into the seat beside him, arms dramatically stretched out like he had run a marathon just getting there.

“Midterm schedules are up,” Junho groaned, dropping his bag onto the desk with a heavy thud. “Science is first. We’re doomed.”

Daewon blinked, then offered a small smile. “You say that every time.”

Junho scoffed, pulling out a crumpled copy of the exam schedule. “And every time, I’m right. Look—math, science, Korean, all back-to-back. They want us dead.”

Daewon chuckled quietly, resting his chin on his hand. “It’s not that bad.”

“Says the guy who actually studies,” Junho muttered, but then paused, narrowing his eyes. “Wait, did you draw again?” He pointed toward Daewon’s notebook.

Daewon’s hand instinctively slid over the sketch, hiding it. “It’s nothing.”

Junho raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Is it her again?”

Daewon didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Junho had known him long enough to understand silence better than words.

“Dude,” Junho whispered dramatically. “Just tell her. Before I explode from secondhand feelings.”

Daewon looked away, out the window where sunlight danced on the school courtyard. “It’s not that easy.”

Junho sighed but dropped the subject—just in time, too, because footsteps echoed through the hallway. A few students shuffled into the classroom, and in that quiet lull, Yoo Aera entered.

Her hair caught the light as she stepped in, neat and soft, just brushing past her shoulders. She didn’t say much—she never did—but her presence always seemed to change the atmosphere, like opening a window on a spring day.

She walked past Daewon’s desk, her expression calm, almost unreadable. She didn’t glance at him, but Daewon felt the air shift, just slightly, like something inside him had straightened up and paid attention.

Her desk was right beside his.

As she sat down, the classroom door opened once more and their homeroom teacher stepped in, commanding the quiet with her presence. The bell rang. Class began.

But Daewon’s thoughts were already drifting, somewhere between the lesson and the soft sound of a pencil against paper.

Yoo Aera’s POV

The bell rang, and the classroom stirred with the quiet shuffle of notebooks closing and chairs sliding back.

Aera didn’t move right away. Her pencil hovered above her notes, but she hadn’t written anything in the last few minutes. Not really.

She turned a page, slowly, pretending to review her work. But in truth, her thoughts were far from atoms and chemical bonds.

Then I’m glad you saw me.

She hadn’t meant to remember those words. But they came back anyway—soft as sunlight, lingering like a quiet echo from the art room that day.

It was silly, maybe. But something about the way Daewon said it… it stayed with her. Not because it was poetic. He wasn’t that kind of boy. But because it sounded real. Like it came from somewhere deep inside.

Since then, she’d found herself noticing little things.

Like how he sometimes stared at the board but didn’t write anything.

Like how his pen would start moving whenever she did.

Like today.

He’d drawn something again. She caught a glimpse when he shifted in his seat—something blue, circular. An umbrella?

She hadn’t meant to look. She wasn’t even sure if she was right. But still… it made her lips curl just a little.

She remembered the way their hands brushed when she passed him the pencil earlier. The moment was short, but it had sent a flutter through her chest, one she hadn’t expected.

Maybe it was nothing. Just nerves. Just the quiet way of middle school days. But maybe…

She shook her head lightly, pushing her hair behind her ear.

Don’t imagine too much, Yoo Aera.

Still, her heart felt light. Lighter than usual.

She packed her things slowly, stealing one last glance at the boy next to her.

Daewon was folding a paper with a kind of gentle care, like it meant something. Then he tucked it deep into his notebook and zipped it shut before standing.

Their eyes almost met.

Almost.

She looked away first.

But her heart was still fluttering.

The classroom buzzed with low murmurs and rustling papers as homeroom wound down. Mr. Han adjusted his glasses, a familiar sign that something official was about to happen. Daewon glanced up from his notes just as the teacher tapped the chalkboard with his pointer.

“We’ll be starting our spring group project today,” Mr. Han announced, drawing everyone’s attention. “It’s a short-term assignment, due in two weeks, and you’ll be working in pairs.”

A few groans echoed across the room. Group projects usually meant carrying the weight alone—or worse, being paired with someone awkward.

Aera, quietly flipping her notebook closed, didn’t seem fazed. She kept her expression calm, though her fingers lingered on the edge of her desk.

Daewon’s heart picked up speed. What if…?

Mr. Han began calling out names.

“Jisoo and Minji. Junho and Harin…”

Daewon held his breath.

“…Kang Daewon and Yoo Aera.”

For a second, time froze. Daewon’s pen rolled off his desk, hitting the floor with a soft clink. He barely noticed.

Beside him, Aera slowly turned her head, meeting his eyes. Her face was unreadable—but her voice, when she spoke, was soft and clear.

“Looks like we’re partners.”

Daewon blinked, then nodded. “Y-Yeah… okay.”

His voice cracked slightly. He cleared his throat and tried again, “That’s… good.”

Junho elbowed him from the side, grinning. “Lucky.”

Mr. Han finished assigning partners and handed out the project guidelines. They were to create a presentation on a chosen theme that reflected “Youth and Change.” Research, visuals, and a short speech—all done together.

Daewon read the paper twice but couldn’t focus. His mind was already imagining sitting across from Aera, talking, planning, maybe even laughing.

A group project had never sounded so terrifying—and wonderful.

A few hours later, the final bell rang, releasing a tide of students into the sunny courtyard. Daewon lingered behind in the hallway, nervously clutching the assignment paper.

He spotted Aera at her locker, quietly organizing her books. The spring sunlight filtered through the windows, catching in her hair. He swallowed hard, then walked over.

“Hey,” he said, standing just a little too stiff. “About the project…”

Aera turned to him with a gentle expression. “Right. Do you want to meet after school sometime?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, too quickly. “I mean—sure. We could… maybe start tomorrow? The library?”

“The school library?” she asked, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

He nodded. “Unless you want to go somewhere else?”

Aera thought for a moment, then smiled. “The library’s okay. It’s quiet.”

Her smile eased the tension in his chest.

“Oh—and about the topic,” she added, holding up her sheet. “You have any ideas for ‘Youth and Change’?”

Daewon scratched the back of his head, glancing around as if inspiration might be hiding in a locker. “Maybe… something about how people drift apart and come back together? Like how seasons change?”

Aera’s eyes lit up slightly. “That’s… actually nice. Like how friendships change over time?”

“Yeah, or… feelings,” he said, his voice lowering just a little.

A moment passed between them, not awkward, just quiet.

Aera tilted her head. “Then maybe we could do a visual project. Like, compare childhood memories to now.”

“Like photos and drawings?” Daewon asked, already picturing his sketchbook.

She nodded. “You draw, right? I’ve seen your pencil case. It’s full of charcoal sticks.”

Daewon blinked. “You noticed?”

Aera looked away, her voice soft. “Only a little.”

He smiled. “Okay. Let’s meet tomorrow, and we’ll start from there.”

As they walked off in different directions, the same thought echoed quietly in both of their minds:

This project… might become something more.

That Evening – Daewon’s Home

The sun had just dipped below the rooftops of Haneul-dong as Daewon stepped into his home. The scent of simmering soup and freshly cooked rice greeted him. He slipped off his shoes and called out, “I’m home.”

From the kitchen, his mom replied cheerfully, “Dinner’s almost ready!”

“Oppa!” a small voice chirped. His little sister, Kang Minseo, peeked out from behind the doorframe, her pigtails bouncing as she ran up to him with a grin.

“Hey, Minseo,” Daewon said, ruffling her hair.

“Did you see Yoo Aera again today?” she asked innocently, her eyes wide with curiosity.

Daewon’s ears turned pink. “Wh-what? How do you even know that name?”

“You talk in your sleep sometimes,” she said, giggling, then skipped off before he could react.

At the dinner table, their dad asked about school between spoonfuls of kimchi stew.

“Any projects coming up?” he said, lifting his chopsticks.

Daewon nodded, avoiding his mom’s eyes. “Yeah. Group project. Presentation.”

“With anyone interesting?” his mom asked, smiling knowingly.

“Just… a classmate,” he mumbled, then took a big bite of rice.

Minseo leaned in and whispered, “Yoo. Ae. Ra.”

He kicked her gently under the table.

After dinner, Daewon took a long shower, the steam fogging the mirror as he stood under the water, thinking.

He dried off and walked to his small room, where his sketchbook sat waiting on the desk. He passed it without opening it, tossing himself onto the bed.

Lying on his back, he stared at the ceiling fan spinning above him. The events of the day played in his mind like a soft movie reel: Aera’s calm voice, her smile, the way she had said “Looks like we’re partners.”

He rolled onto his side, burying his face into the pillow.

“She noticed my charcoal sticks…” he whispered into the quiet. “Why does that make me so happy?”

He didn’t have an answer, but his heart was light as sleep slowly pulled him under.