During last period, which was now her free period, Jiyeong peeked inside the music room. No one seemed to be inside. Satisfied, she entered and quietly closed the door behind her. She was thinking about taking a quick nap again.

Then she heard a sniffle. Surprised, she craned her neck to see the red-haired boy crouched on the ground behind some old desks. He had his back to the wall and his head was in his arms. Hearing repeated sniffling, Jiyeong knew that he was crying.

“Um, are you okay, Suga Sunbae?” she asked aloud. She approached the boy cautiously, as if approaching an injured wild animal.

“Leave me alone!” he roared without lifting his head. His voice cracked in the middle of his sentence. Jiyeong quietly sat down in front of him. She knew that he wasn’t looking up because of his pride, but she felt like she couldn’t just leave him to cry pitifully by himself. It reminded her of the lonely days when she cried by herself in her room at the orphanage over her lost brother. No one had been beside her to comfort her.

She remembered the time when she first met him in the music room. He had been passionately rapping about a depressed boy striving not to lose his motivation, as if he were telling his own story. Then he dawned on her. He had been telling his own story.

“You know,” she whispered, “depression comes from rumination. If you dwell on unhappy thoughts, you cannot be anything but unhappy. I don’t completely understand why you’re so sad, but I do understand how it feels like to be drowning in sorrow with no one to pull you out. That’s why I’ve learned how to look at the glass half full.” She paused for a moment and laid a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder. He stiffened. “If you try to forget your worries for a moment and seek the stars in the darkness, you will be able to rescue yourself. Be positive. Find reasons in your life to laugh rather than cry. If you strive hard enough, you’ll be able to throw your depression off. It may not be easy and it may take a long time, but in the end, if you try, you will succeed.”

The weeping turned into loud sobbing. Jiyeong stayed next to the boy for a while, patting him gently on the shoulder.

Jiyeong was wandering in her personal world of thoughts. Suga kept on appearing in her mind – his crying posture on the ground brought a sympathetic pang to her heart and stirred a memory from long ago.

She remembered that she had walked on the tightrope right above depression when her brother left her. When she entered school, she had been labeled as the crybaby of the whole elementary school. During that dark time, a boy her age had approached her. Wiping her tears, he had pointed out a bright-yellow dandelion growing from a crack in the sidewalk. “Look,” he had said. “That dandelion can even break through hard concrete. Even though times are harsh, I know that if you keep a smile on, you’ll be able to find happiness and be strong like that flower.” Although Jiyeong had nearly drowned in a pool of sorrow as a young child, Jungkook had pulled her out that day. He stayed beside her, becoming her sunshine peeking out from the storm clouds. Even now he probably didn’t know how much Jiyeong depended on him to make her smile.

“So, what are you doing?” A low voice snapped her out of her little world. Taehyung arched an eyebrow as he leaned over the coffee table. Jiyeong was cutting pieces of paper into small squares while sitting on the couch. Since Jungkook was doing homework inside his room, Jiyeong had decided to move her work into the living room. No one really lounged about there; they would either lock themselves up in their separate rooms or be somewhere outside the house.

“I’m participating in the research project competition,” Jiyeong answered. Taehyung took a seat on the sofa nearby and picked up a sheet of paper. She glanced up at him. “Aren’t you busy? I mean, don’t you have an interview or an advertisement shooting today?”

Taehyung shook his head. “Pass me the other pair of scissors, okay?” Confused, the girl handed him a blue pair from the box of Jungkook’s school supplies. The boy began cutting the paper into four rectangles as Jiyeong had been doing.

“You don’t have to help,” Jiyeong said. However, she felt grateful for his thoughtfulness.

“It’s fine,” Taehyung said. His brows furrowed as he concentrated. “Are you doing a project on something psychological? I see that you’ve made small surveys where people have to write sentences concerning the causes of their stress and their dreams.”

“I’m researching the correlation between the causes of stress in teenagers and what appears in their dreams. I’m going to spread the survey sheets to the juniors and seniors of the school,” Jiyeong calmly explained. Her voice was monotone.

Taehyung paused in the middle of cutting and gazed at the girl. “Jiyeong, tell me the truth.” He was an actor; he knew something was up.

Jiyeong slowly looked up at the boy’s serious face. “All I have of my brother’s is his handwriting on an extremely short letter, which was inside an envelope with Taejong Boys High’s logo. If he’s really a student here, wouldn’t I be able to find him by making all the seniors fill out surveys with their handwriting?”

The boy frowned. “How will you be able to find him if your survey is anonymous? You know, no one would fill out a survey if it wasn’t.”

The girl sighed. “I just want to know if he really attends this school. I’ll feel a load better if he does. Just being certain that he’s in the same building as me would be a blessing.” She glanced down at the pieces of paper.

Taehyung stared at the girl, his eyes softening. The girl truly loved her brother. Jiyeong continued to cut the sheet of paper she was holding, oblivious of his stare.

“You’ll find him one day. I know it,” he whispered. “I’ll help you.”