“Why are you so…annoying!?” She grunted, “How many times do I have to repeat myself?”

Gyuri groaned, kicking the air under her desk and almost pulling her hair out in frustration. Taking a deep breath, cracking her knuckles, and focusing herself back on the task, Gyuri read the string of complaining messages once again. She set herself to explain the client the same thing again for what it felt, the trillionth time.

A few years back, her father settled a small room of their house as her work office, and that was the most excited she had seen him. He took the project to set up that space to her liking very seriously. Her father went from being a painter to a craftsman. He also repaired any electricity issues or whatever she needed him to fix to make that room the most comfortable home office in the world. Gyuri never missed the chance to shower him with praises. However, sometimes even the familiarity of her safe space wasn't enough to fight back the stress of dealing with other human beings.

Despite her explanations, the client started complaining again. She deflated on her seat, wondering if she could just curse at him. Gyuri was pondering the possibility of doing it and getting a complaint about her performance because, at this point, she didn’t care anymore. She had been logged in the session with him for almost 3 hours and yet, didn't make any progress. For the last two years, the man kept demanding upgrades on his website way above the budget of what his basic package could cover. In all that time, whenever he requested to talk to her, Gyuri could not make him understand that.

Looking at the clock on the other side of the room, she just tried to calm herself down. She was lucky enough to have supervisors that weren’t that strict overall. They didn't care that much about her office hours as long as she covered a 40-hour quota every week, although she set herself a clocking in time. Some days, depending on her mood, she stayed in her pajamas all day, but most of the time, she changed her clothes. It didn’t really matter to anyone, but somehow, it gave her some sense of belonging. It made her feel like she was a functional nine-to-five office worker.

It was pouring down outside, she hadn't realized. The sky was grey, the temperature kept dropping, and Gyuri made a decision. She closed all the tabs and programs and signed out without even saying goodbye to the client. Her temples and the back of her head pulsed in an imminent headache, and just a minute later, her work phone started whirring on her desk. She didn’t have to look at the screen to know the client was calling her. She let it buzz like always until it stopped, and when she grabbed it, it was to find another missed call from the nine the same client had made on that day.

Letting out a tired sigh at his obnoxiousness and insistence to talk to her, but Gyuri never talked to clients. She avoided it at all costs, but she texted the man nonetheless, apologizing for going offline so suddenly. She excused herself, saying it was due to a power outage. Rolling her eyes at the new string of messages, she assured him that she would keep working on his website as soon as she had power again. That was obviously a lie, but he did not need to know that.

Gyuri simply turned off the phone and practically leaped out of her seat to get ready. The gloomy weather looked like the perfect chance to lift her spirit, relax a little, and be done for the rest of the day, and she lost no time to put her favorite raincoat on. Once zipped up, she twisted her body left to right, rubbing her arms on the sides of her body. She loved the swish-swish sound the fabric produced whenever she did it and made her squeal a little in happiness. Without fail, finally wearing one of her favorite pieces of clothing always filled her heart with joy.

She tried to wear her raincoat as regularly as possible. It was bright green if you look at it from an angle. If you look at it from a different one, it glimmered blue, and sometimes you could see purple gleams, and some other times, yellow ones, and the more she moved, the crazier the colors were. Somehow, Gyuri still had it hard to believe she had something as fashionable as an iridescent raincoat. That simple garment was too hip and high-end for her. It definitely wasn’t something she would wear, but it was the kind of crazy colors she liked and wished she was edgy enough to wear more often. 

Gyuri grabbed her rain boots, her purse with her phone, wallet, a simple lip balm, and the tin can with just a couple of candies left in it, and that was it. She thought about taking her watch as well, but the pouring rain was pleasant and soothing enough that she considered there was no need for it.

“I’m going out mom!” She yelled, skipping down the stairs, carrying her rain boots, and heading out when she heard her mother hurrying up to her.

“Where are you going?”

“To get some coffee.” She replied, grunting as she pushed one foot into the boot, “Maybe even go to the bookstore.”

“Do you have money?” Her mother asked, already pulling her coin purse out.

She meant to argue. She didn’t need her mother to give her pocket money to go out, but when Gyuri looked at her, she seemed to be out of herself. Whatever made her mother hesitate, she brushed it off as fast as she could, cleared , and pulled a couple of checks off her purse.

“Here, get yourself a nice dessert. Something really sweet.” She said, but Gyuri noticed the frailty in her voice.

Her mother slipped the checks in one of the pockets of her raincoat. Before Gyuri could say anything, she walked away to the kitchen, leaving her at the entrance, completely taken aback. 

After the dreadful day of the news, the mood at home calmed down to a certain degree. Although they didn’t openly talk about her problem, Gyuri noticed the sadness and apprehension in how her parents handled themselves around her. Whereas her mother kept cooking, making all of her favorite dishes, and randomly giving her pocket money. Her father’s grieving process was a lot more heartbreaking.

It had been only a week, and she couldn’t dismiss it anymore. Her father would come into her room after dinner and just sit down and talk to her. He’d bring out a random topic he read in the newspaper or something that happened at work, and just like that, they would jump from one subject to another. The discussions always went from a well-articulated debate on social media regulations to laughing at some silly meme he asked her to explain. Every single time, their conversations came to an end in the same way, and that was with her laughing.

“You must be tired.” He’d say, after a while and before pressing a soft kiss on her forehead, “Have a goodnight, pumpkin.”

Her father would leave with a forced smile on his face, and Gyuri pretended she couldn’t hear him break down outside the room even if it crushed her heart every single time it happened.

Gyuri never mentioned anything to them, and she knew they didn’t mean to overwhelm her with the attention, but there was so much she could handle before feeling like she was going to explode. When the weather decided to mirror the heaviness in her heart, she couldn’t help but go out and try to make the most out of it.

The bus ride to her favorite coffee shop was almost uneventful until she felt her phone buzzing and her mood sank when she saw a new text from Baekhyun. She ignored it, burying the phone deep in her purse, but found it impossible not to think about it for the rest of the ride. No matter how much she tried to focus on anything other than him, he remained on her thoughts.

It seemed like Baekhyun gave up on his efforts to find out what was going on with her, which she was mildly grateful for. A week later, apart from the usual texts he sent her to share his favorite memes or a new favorite song, nothing much happened at that end. However, their weekly hangout coming was enough to make her a bundle of nerves, and she couldn’t formulate a plan to skip it without making him suspicious.

Arriving at the bus stop a few minutes later, Gyuri jumped out to the rain, and the rhythmic pitter-patter of the raindrops against the hood of her raincoat made her so happy. She had it almost impossible to stop a smile from spreading across her face.

She liked the rain. 

Most of the time, Gyuri felt guilty for finding it amusing when she saw people struggling with their umbrellas. Somehow, it cheered her up. The rain also made people quiet. When everybody was immersed in their rush to locate some shelter and avoid the chaos, Gyuri always found herself pleasantly lost in its music. When most people ran away from it, she embraced the stillness and the peace. The rain muted every scary noise and stopped people from forcing her to talk.

The rain granted her the possibility to be out there, feeling carefree and alive. It allowed her to hum to herself without worrying if anyone could hear her voice, jump into puddles, feel her nose getting cold, and her fingertips numb. 

She lived for rainy days.

Immersed in looking down to the ground and the satisfying and perfectly chaotic patterns of the raindrop splatters and ripples on the floor, Gyuri's happy self-absorption came to a stop. She bumped against a body, making her step back in surprise. 

“Sorry.” 

She heard at the same time she mumbled her apology, but even the music of rain was a lull in comparison to his soft voice. Gyuri looked up to find the ciabatta man, staring at her just as surprised as she was. However, the first thing she noticed was that his eyes under his black cap had a sad glint to them. What were the odds of running into him in such a big city?

“How are you feeling?” He asked, showing a very tiny hint of a smile.

Gyuri was not sure. She was happy for the time being in that exact moment under the rain but thinking on something further than her immediate mood felt treacherous. She didn't bother to give him more than a shrug. 

“Do you want a coffee?” She said instead, trying to ignore her looming anguish.

He helped her. He essentially saved her life and stayed with her when she felt desolated. Gyuri owed it to him, but she didn't know how to repay such kindness. A cup of coffee had to do for now.

“I was on my way to get one, actually.” He said, and his small smile got wider. “Do you mind?”

The ciabatta man pointed out somewhere in the opposite direction of where she was walking to, and Gyuri found herself gladly turning around and joining him on his way to the coffee shop. That simple action felt liberating somehow, and she genuinely smiled for the first time, probably since the diagnosis, and that felt invariably better. She even felt comfortable enough to let out a chuckle when he arranged his umbrella to cover her as well, despite her having her raincoat on.

“I've realized that you're still a stranger.” She said after the first block of a silent walk.

“Do Kyungsoo.” He said unceremoniously, and even his name, with that deep voice of his, had a nice ring to it, “What about you? You're also still a stranger.”

“Kang Gyuri.”

“Nice to meet you.” He replied.

After the polite and discrete introductions, they kept walking side by side in a comfortable silence under the rain. Somehow and out of nowhere, Gyuri had the urge to explain herself to the considerate stranger. 

“About the other day, he wasn't lying.” Gyuri started, focusing herself on the curtains of rain falling in the street, “I don't have any friends.” 

Gyuri never thought that saying that out loud would have such an effect on her. It was a sad admission. She always pretended it didn’t bother her, but it did. She did not have friends. The only one she got was going to be the cause of her death.

“I have problems talking to people.” She admitted with a sigh.

“You don’t seem to have problems talking to me.” He pointed out, and Gyuri had to agree.

She looked at him, wondering how on earth was so easy to articulate words in front of him. His proximity felt comfortable, and the noticeable lack of judgment in his eyes was reassuring.

He grabbed her hand, and she noticed right away that her nails were different. The pinkish and natural tone of her skin was suddenly tinted with a yellowish tinge. Red swirls spotted them and looked like blood bruises under her fingernails, making her hands look sick.

Gyuri realized then why her mother faltered earlier that day. Bringing her hands closer to her face, she had to come to terms that her body was finally outwardly caving into the disease. 

“At least they aren't fuchsia.” He grumbled, and Gyuri couldn’t hold the snort that came from the bottom of her chest.

“Your nails were bright pink?” She asked, amused just to imagine him with bright-colored fingernails.

“Do you want to get them done?” He said, looking over his shoulder to a nail salon across the street, “I painted mine when the bruising showed up.”

“I would never guess you as someone so versed on the subject.” She said, and her comment was received with a small and lopsided smile, “What color did you use?”

“.”

“Of course.” Gyuri chuckled, “I’ve never gotten my nails done before so I guess I can go wild for once.”

With a nod and without letting her hand go, Kyungsoo pulled her forward to cross the street. Once on the other side and as he held her hand, Gyuri openly stared at him, unable to utter a word. He should have let her hand go already. Although he didn't, the warmth of his skin was so pleasantly comfortable around her numb fingers that she simply tightened her hold onto it. 

They came into the small salon, and she stood still at the entrance, waiting for Kyungsoo to manage his umbrella. Her eyes wandered around the place to find a spot to hang her raincoat dripping with water when she was welcomed by a lady. She had such a kind and wrinkled smile that Gyuri found so heartwarming, and that was already prodding her to a rack where she could leave her coat.

“Good evening,” Kyungsoo greeted once he settled his umbrella in a corner, “We don’t have an appointment.” 

“Oh don’t worry,” the woman smiled, offering them both to sit, “my next two appointments have been canceled because of the rain.”

Without even realizing how easy and fast everything was happening, Gyuri was suddenly seated in front of the lady. She placed her hands over the table, and it didn't occur to her that her hands might be ugly or weird, but the woman paused when she saw them. She had seen sick hands before, and it showed in her reaction. The lady got over it quickly and placed a gentle hand on top of hers, in a comforting way Gyuri found quite soothing. 

“What color would you like?” S