The sky cries often in the spring.

But its tears come suddenly, they come briefly. In waves of severity and violence until they emerge into a sea of desolation and ravage everything in their wake.

The sky's sorrow leaves behind saturated pavement, and fragmented umbrellas, and an ambience of misery that feels almost suffocating.

But after all the downpour, the sky finds solace in the rays of the sun, and its warm fingertips tenderly brush away the tears and return spring to how it should be. Where the melodies of red finches and bluebirds sound throughout the branches of the park, and flowers line the city's streets, blooming various shades of fuchsia and violet.

The tears of the sky had gathered by the side of the road, and they splashed upon his school shoes as the bus came to a stop in front of him.

Right before Jisoo stepped onto the metal platform, he turned around and saw Junghan running out of the coffee shop across the street.

Just like he always did.

Junghan’s eyes were filled with that certain type of sadness that Jisoo could never truly understand, and the sky’s tears ran down his porcelain face like squandered paint on a broken canvas.

Jisoo didn't realize he was staring until his little brother customarily rolled his eyes and pushed him through the buses doorway.

Junghan sat in the seat across from Jisoo’s.

Just like he always did.

And he had an antiquated notebook against his legs, and a broken pencil between his fingers.

Jisoo wanted to ask what he was drawing. But then he remembered that even if he did, he wouldn't get an answer.

He wouldn't get an answer because Junghan didn't speak.

Whether it was because he couldn't, or simply had no desire to, Jisoo didn't know.