Disclaimer: I don’t own DotS.

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Prologue: petrichor

(—and then she comes)

Si Jin basks in the cold seeping through his skin and wonders if things are always going to stay this way. Crying in the rain isn’t exactly a healthy habit to develop. But this routine is getting more and more addicting. Each time it would rain, he would come to the rooftop and lean his weight against the concrete wall. And then he waits.

A second.

A minute.

An hour.

And then another hour.

And it’s addicting because as he lets the rain soaks him to the bones, he feels that pain in his heart (—a memory of a gold medal in his hands and his mother’s trembling lips and that ghost of a smile as he watches her die) starting to disappear. Disappear, because his heart is numb. Numb from the cold. And cold is good. It provides him a leeway to escape. It makes him forget. It lets him to pause and think and breathe.

Pitter, patter, pitter.

A calming, stable rhythm.

This is his routine, and one that he is reluctant to break anytime soon.

But one day, he hears a splish, splash, splosh—

—and then it stops.

He looks up to see a figure of a girl (woman?) with a bright yellow umbrella (such a bright and happy colour in contrast to his current mood) and she is clad in their school uniform. A schoolmate. Si Jin can’t see her face but he looks at her black converse and concludes that she has cute feet.

“Don’t cry if you are embarrassed to show it.”

Her voice is even and nonchalant and he wonders why she even bothers talking to him. After two hours of staying under the rain, Si Jin admits he must have looked beyond pathetic and any person that sees him right now would have concluded that he is a weirdo.

“If you want to cry, then cry,” She continues, her feet shuffling, “but don’t disgrace the recipient of your tears by hiding your sadness. That’s cowardly. And stupid. And not worth the risk of catching hypothermia.”

And then she stops talking.

A second.

A minute.

An hour.

Si Jin watches as the rain continues to fall.

But he is no longer cold. No longer numb.

Because underneath her hideously beautiful bright yellow umbrella, he cries earnestly for the time first time, forty-nine days after his mother’s death; soft and painful and heart wrenching to the point where he can no longer see through his tears. And that girl—woman (?), schoolmate, stranger—stays beside him the whole time, unmoving, not saying anything. She is just there, black converse beside his own ones, as if saying: it’s okay.

And for the first time in forty-nine days since his mother’s death, Si Jin thinks, maybe, it is okay.

And then the rain stops, and he can hear the rustling of her umbrella.

He no longer hears pitter, patter, pitter but another splish, splash, splosh.

She’s walking away.

He wipes his tears and struggles to stand (his heart is not the only thing that feels numb, apparently) and he almost stumbles, wanting to reach out to her disappearing figure, until his eyes land on a small container near his feet.

A banana milk.

And a band-aid (how did she know that he scraped his knuckles, he wonders silently) with a name: Kang Mo Yeon.

There’s no more rain, and no more coldness.

But the scent of the soil is palpable and soothing, and the sunlight is warm against his cheek. Then he muses, secretly, so is his heart.

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un: her

(—he’s such a flirt)

“Stop staring at me.”

“I am not staring at you.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“Of course not, you are the student council president and the smartest girl in your year.”

“Then stop staring at me.”

“I am not—was not—staring at you,” the man-boy quips with a mischievous smirk before turning towards another figure who is busily typing away at his laptop, “I am just admiring Dae Young sunbae’s handsome visage, isn’t that right, sunbae?”

Seo Dae Young pauses and turns to look at the person behind the question. His gaze flicks back and forth between his fuming president and the still-smiling (lovesick) idiot, and decides it is best to ignore said idiot and continues finishing his report.

“Yoo-hoobae, stop bothering my vice president and go back to your class.”

“But it’s more interesting to watch you squirm because of me, Kang-sunbae.”

Mo Yeon puts down her pen and points at her exasperating junior, grinning widely at finally being able to prove him guilty of his previous denial. “Ha! So you were staring at me.”

Si Jin smirks. “It’s really cute to see the usually unflappable president getting so worked up over such a trivial thing.” He leans closer towards the scowling girl and tilts his head. “Seolma…do you like me, sunbae?”

Mo Yeon huffs and squeezes down her annoyance. It’s pointless to argue with this hoobae of hers—whose presence suddenly becomes a permanent fixture in her life ever since three months ago, when her math teacher had paired her up with him for some afterschool tutoring. He is the only person in this school who has the nerve to and she knows that he secretly enjoys watching her stutter over her words after he says something particularly embarrassing. Or how the corner of his mouth always tilts upward into that infuriating smirk whenever she blushes (no thanks to him, calling her cute and whatnot). The nerve!

“Dae Young-ssi,” Mo Yeon packs up all her books and haphazardly throws her pencil case into her school bag. She suddenly stands up from her seat, causing the chair to almost fall back with a loud creak, “I am going back first. You can email me the plans for the school festival later.” She shoots him a smile. “Sugo haseyo.”

Dae Young nods in acknowledgement. “Oh.”

She walks out of the room and is ten steps away when Si Jin grabs her wrist. “I’ll walk you home.”

Mo Yeon shakes his hand off hers (she really shouldn’t be feeling guilty when she sees that smile on his face falters slightly). “I’m fine. It’s not that late yet.”

“I insist,” Si Jin bores his eyes through hers, pleading, and at the same time trying to penetrate through her defenses and trying to figure out what she is thinking, “I’ll buy you a drink along the way. Banana milk.”

Mo Yeon scoffs, though her resolve almost wavers at his offer. Banana milk. Her favourite drink. That sly brat. “I’m not a kid. How dare you bribe me with—“

“I’ll buy you two.” Si Jin pauses. “Ani da, three.”

Three banana milk for free?
 

Mo Yeon bites her lips. He is so, very sly but—

—“Fine.”

And there’s that grin again, this time full blast, as Si Jin struts over to her, his steps wide and excited. They are now walking side by side and Si Jin studies her from the corner of his eyes. He watches how she slowly tucks a loose strand behind her ear and how her pale cheeks glow from that soft, orange light (has sunset always been this beautiful?) peeking through the window. And then he smiles.

“Kang-sunbae, you look different today.”

The girl pauses in her steps and gives him a confused look. “How am I different?”

“Hmm, you were pretty yesterday,” then, he leans down to whisper beside her ear, “but today…you are extremely pretty.”

Mo Yeon feels a vein pops on her forehead and stomps at his foot.

“Ouch!” The man cries out in bewilderment. “What did I do now?”

Mo Yeon glares at him with that look of annoyance on her face, but even then, Si Jin cannot not notice the blush dusting her cheeks. “That’s for being such a flirt. And I take back my words. I’m going back alone.”

She walks away from him and ignores his pleading calls, heart beating loudly and face unusually warm. Aish, michyeoseo, michyeoseo. Kang Mo Yeon, how can your heart beat faster because of him? Snap out of it!

She shakes her head and scowls. Stupid Yoo Si Jin.

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deux: him

(—she is so stubborn)

 “Will you go out with me?”

“No.”

“Will you go out with me?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“I said, no.”

“Sunbae.”

“Stop pestering me.”

“No, Sunbae, watch—“

“I told you to stop—aaah!”

He runs to catch her from falling (really, why must she always be so suspicious of his good will? He was just trying to tell her about that piece of paper lying not so innocently on the ground) but fails to do so, so instead, Mo Yeon falls onto the tiled floor, her legs folded in a weird position.

Crack.

“Kang-sunbae, gwaenchanayo?”

No response.

“Sunbae. Kang-sunbae.” Si Jin shakes her arms, fear starts to creep through him because she is not opening her eyes and seems unresponsive to his calls, “Sunbae. Sunbae! Ya, Kang Mo Yeon! Mo Yeon-ah!”

Mo Yeon flutters her eyes open, hissing from the onslaught of