Monday morning crept in on quiet footsteps, the sky brushed in pale gold as Kang Daewon stepped through the school gates. The campus was still sleepy - just a few students wandering in, dragging backpacks and yawns. But Daewon's heart was already wide awake, thumping softly in anticipation.
In one hand, he carried a USB stick. In the other, a packet of snack bread - half-squished from his bag, but still warm. Aera had messaged the night before:
> Let's meet a bit early. Just to print everything calmly.
So here he was. Early. Fidgety. Half-wondering if his hair looked ridiculous.
When he reached the small student printer room near the library, the door was already open.
And Yoo Aera was there.
She stood by the machine, sleeves pulled over her hands, lightly blowing on a cup of warm banana milk. The faint scent of barley soap drifted as she looked up.
"You came," she said.
"Yeah." Daewon lifted the USB, trying not to sound too breathless. "Last-minute warriors."
She smiled - small, sleepy, beautiful.
But the moment of calm vanished in an instant.
The printer made a horrible krrrk - CLUNK sound.
They both froze.
"Wait," Aera said, crouching down. "I think… it jammed."
"No, no, no," Daewon muttered, pressing buttons like a panicked airplane pilot. "We were so close."
Aera opened the side panel and poked inside with quiet concentration. "Okay, don't panic. Just breathe."
"I am breathing. Rapidly. That's called stress breathing."
She let out a quiet laugh and pointed. "There's one good paper left in the tray. If this ruins it, we'll have to beg Mr. Seo for mercy."
"Oh no," Daewon said, mock-horrified. "He'll say, 'This is why I warned you, my children.' Then he'll write a life lesson on the board."
"Followed by a slow, disappointed head shake," Aera added.
Their eyes met - and both of them started giggling.
Eventually, with a few careful tugs and one minor paper cut (Daewon's), they got the page free and the machine working again.
As the last sheet printed with a satisfying zzzzrrrrp, Aera held out her hand.
"Let me see it?"
Daewon passed it to her, his fingers brushing hers.
The moment lingered. Too long to be casual.
She looked down at the printed page, then said quietly, "If we hadn't been paired… would we have talked like this?"
Daewon's heart gave a sharp, fluttering skip.
He didn't answer at first. Just stared at her, her bangs gently brushing her lashes, the way she tilted her head slightly when she waited.
Then he said, voice low and sincere, "Maybe not. But I think… I would've wanted to."
Aera blinked, a faint pink coloring her cheeks.
The silence between them wasn't awkward - it was something else. Something soft. Like standing under light rain, warm and strange and full of meaning.
Then -
The printer beeped loudly and spat out a test page.
They both jumped.
"Seriously?!" Daewon groaned. "Now it works perfectly?"
Aera laughed. Not the quiet chuckle she usually gave, but a real laugh - clear and unguarded. She covered her mouth too late, her eyes crinkling.
"I think it likes drama," she said.
"Stupid machine," Daewon muttered. "Ruining my moment."
Aera tilted her head, teasing. "Your moment?"
"…Our moment," he mumbled, ears turning pink.
She didn't say anything. But her smile lingered all the way back to Class 2-3.
By the time they reached the classroom, most of the seats were filled and buzzing with last-minute chatter. Folders flipped open, pens scribbled in panic, and someone in the back was desperately whispering, "What's the difference between theme and plot again?!"
Aera gently placed their neatly printed project on Mr. Seo's desk. Daewon stood beside her, pretending not to notice how her sleeve brushed his.
Mr. Seo glanced at their folder, his brow lifting slightly.
"Ah. The rain story."
Daewon swallowed. "Yes, sir."
The teacher flipped through the pages slowly, pausing on the sketch of the girl with the blue umbrella. His gaze lingered there.
"This one…" he murmured. "It's got something."
He looked up at Daewon, then at Aera. "You two made a good team."
"Thank you," Aera said, with a small bow.
Mr. Seo gave a soft smile - rarer than a test-free Friday. "You'll get your scores next week. But…" He tapped the sketch. "This one's going on the wall."
Daewon's breath hitched.
Aera looked at him, eyes wide. A moment passed between them like a held breath, full of pride and something more delicate - shared joy.
As they walked back to their desks, Minjae immediately leaned over.
"Okay, what happened this morning?" he whispered dramatically. "You're glowing like someone just confessed in a K-drama."
Daewon blinked. "What? No, we just… printed the project."
Minjae narrowed his eyes. "You printed the project and came back looking like that?"
Aera, now seated, glanced up and blinked at them.
"Don't mind him," she said, deadpan. "He watched too many love triangles this weekend."
"Hey!" Minjae squawked. "I'll have you know I was watching a thriller. With murder. And jealousy. And also romance."
Daewon groaned, sinking into his seat. "Please let the floor eat me."
Minjae just grinned, victorious. "It's okay, man. First love always hits weird. You start seeing cherry blossoms where there's only dust."
Daewon opened his notebook, flipped a page, and bonked Minjae lightly on the head with it.
As the bell rang and Mr. Seo started discussing next week's lesson plans, Daewon dared one quick glance to his right.
Aera had her cheek resting lightly on one hand, her eyes on the board - but a smile still lingered at the corners of her mouth.
His heart, traitorous and loud, fluttered again.
The final bell rang with a sigh of relief from Class 2-3. Chairs scraped back, bags were zipped up, and conversations spilled out into the halls like wind through open windows.
Daewon waited by the shoe lockers, sketchbook hugged against his chest. He wasn't sure if Aera would walk with him again, but -
"There you are," she said quietly, appearing beside him like a soft breeze.
He turned, trying not to smile too fast. "You done?"
Aera nodded, tucking her hair behind one ear. "I just wanted to ask… can we stop by the river?"
The river that ran behind Haneul Elementary was quiet this time of year. The cherry blossoms were mostly gone, their petals scattered into the stream, floating like forgotten wishes. Daewon and Aera walked side by side down the dirt path, the sky slowly melting into gold.
She didn't speak right away.
He didn't rush her.
Finally, Aera stopped near a crooked willow tree and tilted her head.
"I used to come here when I was little," she said. "With my brother. He'd hold my hand the whole way down this path because I was scared of dogs."
Daewon smiled gently. "And now?"
"I'm still scared of dogs." She glanced at him, lips tugging into a playful curve. "But… I walk here by myself sometimes. When I want to remember things."
"Like what?"
She looked up at the sky, her lashes fluttering in the sun.
"Like the sound of my dad's voice. Or how it felt when my mom brushed my hair after a bath. Or…" She hesitated, then glanced at him. "...like how someone made me feel less lonely in the rain."
Daewon's heart skipped so hard it felt unfair.
A gust of wind passed between them, tugging softly at their sleeves. Aera reached into her tote bag and pulled something out.
It was a folded page from their project - the sketch of the girl beneath the blue umbrella.
"I printed an extra one," she said. "For you."
Daewon took it, stunned. His fingers brushed hers again, and neither of them moved away.
"Thanks," he whispered. "I'll keep it."
They stood there for a moment longer, quiet except for the rustle of the water below and the sound of hearts speaking too loudly in silence.
That evening, Aera sat on the apartment balcony with her older brother, a mug of warm barley tea in her hands. The city lights twinkled faintly in the distance.
"Was that boy earlier…" her brother began, "the one with the sketchbook… Is he special to you?"
Aera didn't answer right away.
Instead, she traced the rim of her mug with one finger, eyes on the stars. Then:
"When I was seven," she said, "I got lost during a school field trip. I sat by a bench and cried because I thought no one would come."
Her brother turned toward her, listening quietly.
"But then… someone put a blue umbrella over me. A boy. He didn't talk much. Just sat beside me and waited until the teacher found us."
She smiled faintly.
"I didn't know his name back then. I don't think he even remembered me. But I always remembered him."
Her brother stared.
"You think that's him?"
Aera hugged her knees to her chest. "I think… it's possible."
She didn't say it, but her brother understood.
That soft smile. That awkward kindness. The way she now talked a little more. Laughed a little brighter. Drew closer to someone with every passing day.
He gently ruffled her hair.
"Then maybe it wasn't just the umbrella that was blue that day," he said. "Maybe your heart was, too."
Aera blinked, surprised by the words.
Then she laughed, eyes crinkling.
"Since when did you get so poetic?"
"I live with you. It's contagious."
They sipped their tea as the stars blinked on, one by one - soft and far, like memories waiting to be understood.
Back in his own room, Daewon lay on his side, the sketch Aera gave him tucked between the pages of his notebook. Outside, the night breeze played with the curtain, cool against his cheeks.
He stared at the ceiling.
A memory stirred.
Not full. Just a flicker.
A small girl in a pale blue raincoat. Sitting on a bench. Crying softly.
And a hand - his - holding out an umbrella.
His brows drew together. He blinked.
"…Was that…"
But the memory slipped away like water through fingers, leaving behind only a feeling.
He pressed a hand against his chest.
Warm.
Like a quiet secret waiting to be found.