Chapter 5: Soft Steps, Shared Words

The day began like any other, with the golden haze of mid-morning light pouring into Class 2-3 of Haneul Middle School. Mr. Seo stepped in, clearing his throat dramatically as the chatter died down.

“I hope you all remember what I mentioned yesterday,” he said, adjusting his glasses. “Group project presentations will be due in three weeks. Today, you’ll have time during class to begin planning with your partner.”

Desks squeaked as students shuffled closer to their assigned partners. Daewon glanced to his right—Yoo Aera had already placed her notebook between them, neat as always.

“Did you think of any ideas yet?” she asked, her voice soft but clear.

Daewon had. But now, sitting this close to her, he forgot most of them.

“About rain ”, right?

Aera looked up, then smiled. “ Yeah, What kind of story should we write?”

He shrugged, trying to sound casual. “Like… how rain makes people feel. Or maybe a day where two people meet because of it.”

Her eyes softened. “I like it. It sounds... gentle.”

The classroom buzzed with voices and pencils scratching paper, but around their shared desk, it felt like a quiet bubble. Daewon watched the way Aera tapped her pen lightly against her lip when she thought. The way her bangs shifted as she tilted her head. The way her fingers danced when she wrote.

Everything about her felt… quiet, but somehow important.

As they brainstormed, she drew a small umbrella in the corner of her page—tilted slightly, sheltering two stick figures. She didn’t even realize she’d drawn it.

Then—

“Yoo Aera, your handwriting’s really pretty,” came a voice from behind. It was Minjae, from another group, leaning too close.

“Oh, thanks,” Aera replied politely.

Daewon didn’t say anything. But he moved slightly closer.

A quiet flicker stirred in his chest. Not loud, but sharp.

“You spelled ‘umbrella’ wrong,” Daewon said under his breath, looking over at Minjae’s worksheet.

Minjae blinked, then retreated, mumbling something.

Aera glanced sideways, hiding a small grin. “Jealous?”

Daewon froze. “…No.”

She didn’t press. Just smiled.

“Good,” she said. “I wouldn’t want my project partner to be grumpy.”

He looked down, ears warm. “So… a story about rain?”

Aera nodded. “Yes. We can take turns writing the scenes. Maybe even draw a few pages, like a picture book.”

She glanced at him. “You sketch, right?”

“A bit.”

“I’ll write. You sketch. Deal?”

Daewon met her eyes. “Deal.”

And just like that, their project began.

But for Daewon, it already felt like something more.

As the class began working in pairs, Daewon pulled out his worn sketchbook, flipping through pages of graphite doodles and quiet landscapes. He stopped at a blank sheet and began to lightly pencil the outline of an umbrella. His fingers moved with ease, but his mind wandered—to the girl sitting beside him, quietly tapping her pen on the desk.

Aera leaned over slightly, her long hair falling like a curtain between them.

“Are you drawing for the project?” she asked gently, peeking at the paper.

Daewon nodded. “Just… trying to get some ideas down.”

She watched in silence for a moment, then smiled softly. “You’re really good at this. That looks like the umbrella from the other day.”

He paused. “It might be.”

Aera hesitated, then reached into her pencil case and pulled out a blue highlighter. “Can I…?”

He handed her the sketchbook without a word. Their fingers brushed for a second—barely a moment, but it sent a warm shiver down Daewon’s spine.

She shaded the umbrella lightly, the soft blue making the drawing glow in a quiet, dreamy way.

“It reminds me of something,” she said after a moment. Her voice was quieter now, almost like she was speaking to herself. “When I was little, I got caught in the rain alone. I was crying. But then… my brother came with this old, torn blue umbrella. He was soaking wet, but he smiled at me and said, ‘Found you.’ I’ve never forgotten that feeling.”

Daewon looked at her, his pencil resting still in his hand. “That’s a nice memory.”

Aera gave a small nod, then looked at the sketch again. “I think our story could be about that… two people finding each other in the rain.”

Daewon didn’t say anything right away. He just flipped to a new page and started sketching again—this time, a boy and girl under the same umbrella, facing each other, the rain falling like silver threads around them.

The class buzzed with the sound of pencils scratching, quiet voices, and the occasional burst of laughter. But at Daewon and Aera’s desk, it was calm—a pocket of soft energy where their little project world bloomed.

They added details to their plan: a short story titled “Rain Finds Us”. A boy and a girl lost in different ways, who meet under a worn blue umbrella. Aera handled the writing, Daewon the illustrations. Together, it felt effortless.

The bell rang far too soon.

Students stood, stretching and chattering. Chairs scraped the floor, and bags were slung over shoulders. Daewon slowly closed his sketchbook, gently tucking Aera’s highlighter into the spiral rings so it wouldn’t get lost.

She smiled as she packed up her things. “I’ll write the first part of the story tonight. Should we… share our social accounts? It’s easier than texting.”

Daewon’s heart jumped, but he nodded coolly. “Yeah. Good idea.”

They exchanged usernames. Hers had the word “sky” in it—aerablue_sky. It suited her perfectly. His was simple: k_dae_sketch.

“Text me if you get any ideas,” she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Or if you want me to check something.”

“I will,” he replied. “And… thanks for the umbrella. The drawing, I mean.”

She glanced at him, a little shy. “Then I’m glad you saw me.”

It echoed what she’d said in the art room just days ago. And again, it made something flutter in his chest.

They walked to the school gate together, talking about classes, how fast the semester was going, and little things—like how she hated spicy food and he secretly liked the sound of rain.

At the corner, they stopped. Aera’s street was left, Daewon’s right.

“See you tomorrow,” she said, giving a small wave.

“Yeah,” he answered. “Tomorrow.”

As she walked away, he stood there for a moment, watching. The breeze tugged at her hair, and the sky above turned a little softer, like it was blushing for them.

He turned toward home, sketchbook under his arm, heart a little fuller than when the day began.

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