It was raining. I was not outside, but I could see the windows became foggy as the sound of the rain blended with the silence in the library. I was at page 72 when I raised my head and found you were looking at me right on the other side of the table.

            It would have been more polite if you asked my name before another. But then I guessed you wanted to know me more than you wanted to know my name.

            So instead of my name, you asked me, “What is the shape of love?”

…

 

            I took the bookmark and put in between page 71 and 72, then closed the book. I stood up from my chair and walked towards the window beside us. I drew a shape on the foggy window with my index finger then turned to you.

            “It is circle”, I said.

            And the rain stopped.

 

            You gave a smile for yourself then once again, asked me. “Can we meet again?”

            “Depends on the time” I vaguely answered. You turned your head to the circle I drew on the window and set the time for us to meet again.

            “When it’s raining”

 

            “And why is that?” I asked.

            “It’s the only time when we can draw the circle.”

            “We can always use a pen.”

            This time you left your gaze from the circle and looked at me. “But then it will be fake. Or is that what love made of?”

            There was a silence from admiration and that was when a decision was made.

 

 

            “When it’s raining, then”

            With that, I had just agreed to have another meeting with a stranger.

 

 

            It was raining a day after our first meeting. It had been raining since the first period but then it stopped before the break time. I didn’t realize the meaning of my sigh before I read my own writing on the corner of my text book.

            Come rain, come rain.

 

            The hypocrite blabber from the teacher of the fifth period urged me to write more under those four words with a coma and a full stop.

            So I began to write, for the world would go mute every time I began to wonder.

            Come rain, come rain.

           

            For the ground is earning

            A temporally touch from different element

            The one which has the power to destroy

            The one that has never lie

           

            Let it rain, please rain today

            For it’s better for you to destroy me

            Then left me dying alone by the sun heat

 

 

            It didn’t rain that day, either the day after.

           

            But it rained the next day after that, and we met again.

…

 

            You were already sitting on the same chair when I arrived at the library. There was a circle on the foggy window and I was sure I knew the only high school student that could have drew that plain shape on the foggy window of a library.

            I sat in the same chair I used to sit on at our first meeting. We spent the first few minutes looking at each other in silent. After a few minutes of observation, I concluded that you were not the type of person people usually found in library. You were too fluorescent between the fading colors of the old books.

            “Yeah?” you said like I had just called for your name.

            I didn’t call for you name which apparently I had not known even now, but I did have something to ask.

 

            “How could a person like you end up in library?”

            “A boy who visualizes the word of vandalism?” you referred to your long hair and messy uniform. But that was not what I referred.

            “No. A boy who can’t stand the silence”

 

 

            You were taken aback by something which I wasn’t really sure what, but then again I could see you gave yourself a smile once again.

 

 

            “I’m Kim Myungsoo. Second grade”, you finally said as you gave me a hand.

            “I’m Bae Su Ji. First grade”, I said as I gave my hand. I felt the warmth I didn’t feel in any book through your hand which bigger than mine.

            The rain stopped after that.

 

 

            “Can we meet again?” you asked.

            “Only when it’s raining”

…

 

 

            The passed time of waiting is not a waste

            For it only bring us closer

            To the time of our next encounter

 

            One, two, three

            I count with my heartbeat

            Since the clock is too scary

            And it doesn’t call for your name

 

            There will you slip my name

            between your deep thoughts?

            Until it comes to the time

            when my name is every words in your mind

 

            The sound of ringing bell mixed with the sound of the pouring rain as I finished writing the word mind. It was followed by the sound of my own footsteps and everything ended as I met the silence of the library.

            I sat on the same spot near the circle shape which was drawn on the foggy window. Once again, you came faster than me.

            “Do you like music?” was your first sentence and question today.

            “It has always been better than silence”

            “I love music”, you said as you lifted your guitar bag from under onto the table. I grinned when I saw the nerds at another tables almost screamed in shock as maybe they thought you were going to have a rock session here now.

            Fret had not left their face since the first time I met you here, and again I said, you were too fluorescent to be in this place.

            “I failed in my music class”, you continued.

            “And why is that?”

            You gave me your music book as an answer. It was filled with neat music notes. There were pages of it, maybe hundreds of music notes and all were written beautifully.

            I almost asked you once again, why you failed in your music class, until I arrived at the last page and realized what was missing.

 

            There was not any word there.

            Not even for the title for you pieces; only music notes and numbers of dates. Not even your own name.

           

            “Wanna try to write the lyrics for them?”

…

 

            “How could you trust me to write for your pieces?” I asked; still in admiration for your work.

            “Just because..”

            “Just because?”

 

            “Maybe because you said that the shape of love is circle”, you said. I brought up my head to see you.

            “What’s the relation with this?”

            “Because I managed to find a person who said that love is circle, while at least there are 7.000 billion people in this world who draw love as that heart shape”

 

            I presented a silence. I started once again from the first page until the last page. There were five full songs in total.

            “I’m not really good in music”, I admitted. “I can’t even read your sheets properly”

            “I can play it for you”, you said without hesitation. “Since there’s no lyric to be sung, I can hum it then”

            “You’ll get both of us kicked from here after you do that”. I chuckled still amused by the way of people staring at us.

            “Then give me your number”

 

 

            Eh? I turned my sight back to you and somehow confused on what made me blushed all of the sudden.

            I was dumbfounded and we almost had our first awkwardness but then you saved us from it. “Just write it, there”, you said, referring on your music book. “I didn’t bring my cell phone”

            Somehow it felt that I could feel my blood rushing inside my vein, flowing in high speed as fast as my heartbeat, gave me no time to think, no time to act calm. It was a sudden lost.

            Writing suddenly felt like an art exam, where I wished I could paint the most beautiful painting ever with the most shaking finger ever. The number flew out from my head and I was thankful it ended up in the right place, your paper.

 

            “Should I write my name?” I asked.

            “Maybe you should”, you answered. I was too lost in my own euphoria for I didn’t notice your first hesitation there. And again, I guessed I should not have asked you that question, for it was really hard to write as beautiful as your music notes on that paper and for another reason which I would only found out later.

            But like what I said, I was too lost in my own euphoria to notice those hidden things. It was normal right? I meant, hey,

my name was the first word written on your music book.

            The rain stopped after that.

 

…

            “Su Ji”, you said my name for the first time.

            “Yeah, Myungsoo?” I said yours for the first time too—I meant, the first time, in front of you. The amount of mumbling your name actually had became embarrassing—

            “Can I call you later?”

           

            Only when it’s raining?

            No.

 

            “Anytime.”

 

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