There was something about raining days that made Wonpil shiver. They were cold, but the incessant noise of those tears against the glass of his window, against the ground was familiar - he felt something warm inside himself, something that made him feel alive. In those raining days he used to imagine. Maybe a couple was having their first kiss under the rain, maybe someone was having his last.
Maybe someone was crying himself, saying goodbye to someone he loved - a friend, a parent, a lover.
Maybe someone was feeling alone watching the rain.
Maybe that someone had the same hope he had, that someday he would've been loved back from his only one. Because Wonpil was sure about it from the moment he'd seen him for the first time: the moment he'd entered the practice room, Wonpil'd understood.

He hadn't seen his face, or his eyes - nothing like the books he'd read or the movies he'd seen.
He'd felt home, he'd felt his presence -  then he'd turned to meet his eyes.
And at that moment he'd known everything was right. The feeling was right, no matter if they were going to be bandmates, if they were men, or if someone would've been against them. It didn't matter.
"My name is Dowoon. Please, take care of me." he said - Wonpil noticed the red hears as he bowed. The rest of them introduced themselves, the keyboardist last. At very that moment he found his best friend, his soulmate. But he hadn't shared this feeling, he had been afraid - still was.

So he found himself staring out of his window during all these raining days -  the hope that a miracle was going to happen, the hope that the rain would light the gleam he wasn't brav