The rain had started quietly, the kind that made you notice it only when the soft tapping began against the windows. By the time Minjae looked up from his sketchbook, the gray sky was already spilling heavier drops, turning the school’s rooftop into a shimmering canvas of puddles.
He didn’t usually come up here during lunch, but the art room felt too crowded today, filled with voices and laughter he didn’t feel like joining. Up here, it was just the hum of the rain, the scent of wet concrete, and the occasional gust of wind that tugged at his hair.
He was halfway through shading the outline of a tree when the rooftop door creaked open. Minjae froze. Students weren’t supposed to be here when it was raining—too slippery, too dangerous. But the figure stepping through didn’t look like a teacher ready to scold him.
It was Jihoon.
The boy everyone seemed to know, the one with the easy smile and a laugh that could be heard from the other end of the hallway. He wasn’t smiling now. His hair was damp, dark strands clinging to his forehead, and his uniform blazer hung loosely in one hand. He glanced at Minjae, surprised, then at the rain-soaked rooftop beyond.
"Didn’t think anyone else would be here," Jihoon said, his voice quieter than Minjae expected.
Minjae shrugged, eyes flicking back to his sketchbook. "Same."
Jihoon walked over, his sneakers squeaking faintly against the wet floor. Instead of sitting across from him, he dropped down beside him, close enough that Minjae could feel the warmth radiating from his body despite the chill in the air.
"You draw a lot," Jihoon said, leaning just enough to peek at the paper. "That’s good. You’re… really good."
Compliments weren’t something Minjae knew how to accept, so he just muttered, "Thanks," and kept shading. But his hand was trembling slightly—not from the cold, but from the sudden awareness of Jihoon’s presence.
The rain fell harder now, drumming against the rooftop’s tin awning. Jihoon tilted his head back, eyes half-closed, as if listening to something only he could hear. After a moment, he asked, "Do you ever feel like the rain makes everything… honest?"
Minjae looked at him, caught off guard. Jihoon wasn’t the type to say things like that in class. He was all jokes and confidence, surrounded by friends. This felt like a side of him no one else saw.
"Maybe," Minjae said softly.
Jihoon’s lips curved—not into his usual wide grin, but something smaller, almost fragile. "Then I guess I needed this today."
Minjae didn’t ask why. But as the rain blurred the city skyline beyond the school walls, he had the feeling this was the start of something he wouldn’t be able to forget.
