The rain was heavier that day. The kind that blurred the edges of buildings and turned the paths into shallow rivers. Students hurried under umbrellas, their shoes splashing through puddles, laughter rising in bursts as they raced across the courtyard.
Kaya didn't rush.
Her umbrella was an old one, the kind that clicked open unevenly. She walked carefully, holding her books close, watching the drops form tiny rivers on the fabric overhead. Rain calmed her. Even when the world moved quickly, the steady rhythm felt like a lullaby only she could hear.
As she passed the music building, she noticed him.
Moon Seo-jun stood just outside the doorway, hands in his pockets, no umbrella in sight. He looked up at the sky briefly, then down at the wet steps in front of him, as if calculating whether it was worth the trouble to run through the rain.
Without thinking, Kaya slowed.
And before she could second-guess herself, she stopped altogether.
"Do you… need to borrow an umbrella?" The words escaped softer than she intended, but they reached him.
Moon turned. His eyes, darker than the rain-soaked clouds, settled on her. For a moment, she thought he might refuse. He didn't look like someone who easily accepted help.
Then he stepped closer. "You'll get wet if you share."
Kaya shifted her books in her arms. "I don't mind."
A pause. Then a faint curve of his lips—not quite a smile, more like the echo of one. "...Alright."
They fell into step together, the umbrella tilting just enough to cover them both. Their shoulders brushed once, briefly, and Kaya held her breath.
The walk was quiet at first. Only the sound of rain tapping above them, footsteps on the wet stone path, and distant shouts from other students darting past.
Then, his voice: "You're in psychology, right?"
Kaya glanced at him, surprised he knew. "Yes. Second semester."
He nodded. "Makes sense."
Her brows furrowed slightly. "Why?"
"You watch people a lot." His tone wasn't accusing—just matter-of-fact, like an observation.
Heat crept into her cheeks. "I don't… mean to."
"Not a bad thing." His gaze lingered on the puddles ahead, unreadable. "Sometimes people need to be seen."
Kaya didn't know what to say to that. Her grip on the umbrella tightened.
When they reached the corner where their paths would part, Moon slowed. "Thanks. For this." His hand brushed the umbrella lightly as he stepped out into the drizzle. "And for the drawing."
Before she could answer, he was already walking away—hood pulled over his head, footsteps fading into the rain.
That night, Kaya lay awake again, listening to Ji-eun's muffled laughter as she whispered into her phone. But for the first time in a while, her mind wasn't replaying old memories.
It was replaying a quiet walk, the sound of rain, and words that lingered like a melody:
*Sometimes people need to be seen.*
To be continued....