"In between cracks of sunlight," I sing, the music rolling off my tongue like instinct, "in between the flowing white clouds," I reach my hand up and close it on a cloud. The wind races across my fingertips and tousles my hair, "In between the blowing wind," He sits up and looks down at me, the sunlight surrounds him like an angel, and I smile, "You shine."

"That's the song?" Myungsoo asks, tilting his head to one side. "It's just a little.." I blush, "That's all I have."

He falls back onto the grass and puts his arms behind his head. The blue sky above seems endless. "Geez," he sighs, closing his eyes.

"What?"

"I wish I had my guitar," he says, and turns his head to face me, "I have a great idea."

"Let's go, then!" I shout, and stand up, and hold a hand out to him.

"Now?" he asks, "we just ditched class!"

"Whatever!" I retort and grab his unwilling hand. This time, he runs with me, side by side, hand in hand back to class.

When we reach the school, we slow, and we notice we're holding hands. "uh, sorry!" I apologize, raising one hand and nodding my apologies.

The Teacher is less than pleased with us. Our punishment is to sit in the hallway for 15 minutes with our fists above our heads. "Why don't they just beat you with sticks instead!" I yell in English, furious.

"What?"

"Uh, Mianhe!" I switch back to Korean, "I asked why they don't just beat us with sticks instead."

"Well, technically this isn't child abuse," he remarks.

"SHHH!" A male teacher hushes us and we put our heads down, silently giggling.

At long last, we're free. My hands burn as the blood rushes back into them, turning my hands back to a normal human color. "God, that hurts!" I say, rubbing them. "Here," Myungsoo takes my hand in his and slowly presses his thumbs against my palm, the pain fades a little. "If you do this, it hurts less. Your first time, right?"

"Well in America they don't exactly make you sit with your hands in the air for an hour."

"Fifteen minutes," he corrects me, and we laugh.

"Hey, Myungsoo," I say, and pull my hand away. "Yeah?" He asks, looking up. "Will you come home with me today?--I mean, so we can work on the song."

He looks thoughtful a moment, rubs the back of his neck, then nods. "Yeah, I'll cancel my schedule today. If it's for school, Manager-hyung won't mind."

Sungjong is more than shocked to see Myungsoo walk home with us.

"You two are partners??" He inquires, "on a love song project?"

"Yes," we both reply at the same time.

"Why am i not a 3rd year!?" He groans, throwing his head back.

"Sungjong," I put my hand on his shoulder, "It's not a big deal."

"Whatever, just promise me one thing," he stops both of us in the road.

"What is it?"

"Don't fall in love! Never! You can't! Got it?"

I purse my lips and knuckle him in the head. "Got it, kiddo."

Sungjong is hesitant to leave us at my house's gate, but he does. Continuously looking over his shoulder before turning the street corner. Omma and Appa are surprised to see a new boy coming home with me. "Where's son-in-law?" Omma asks, how I wish she'd stop calling him that.

"Sungjong is not my husband, Omma!" I burst, and throw my bag on the couch. "Myungsoo, follow me," I demand, and pull Myungsoo up into my loft.

Did you...paint all of this?" He asks, looking around my room, admiring the sparrows and music notes.

"Yeah, do you like it?"

I pat my bed and he sits on it, I sit beside him. He unlocks his guitar case and pulls out a beautiful guitar. It's pale like moonlight with an elegant long neck.

"How did the song go again?" he asks, tuning the guitar. His well-practiced hands move on their own, tapping the string, cautiously turning the peg until the sound is ripe like fresh fruit.

"In between the cracks of the sunlight..." I begin to sing, and he joins in.

"In between the flowing white clouds," he runs his fingers across the strings.

Music pours from the guitar, mixing with our words and joining in its melody. As the first words of the song disappear, I expect him to stop playing, but he goes on, singing out some words of his own.

"following time," he sings, and a smile grows on his face, "it spreads thickly,"

He rocks in time with the guitar and looks at me, "even if I say it everyday,"

"It seeps into me again, full of longing," he runs his fingers against the strings once more and stops.

"and the chorus?" I ask, lifting my guitar from it's stand, and sitting beside him.

he just shrugs. I tug on the strings, and form a pattern. 1, 2, 1, 2. Back on forth on the notes, "How's this?"

"Perfect!" he cheers, and joins me. "Lyrics?" I ask, and he opens his mouth.

"Something like...You, faintly you, shyly you,--"

I cut him off, and sing, "Come towards me, and shake me,"

I smile at him, and he keeps playing, "I, quietly you, connected by the memories,"

Myungsoo steals the spotlight again, "I, and I, always live in longing,"

I tap my foot with the music and nudge him with my elbow, "I, already I, already I am locked in our memories."

"Are we done?" I ask, looking at him excitedly, "that was easy!"

"Yes!" he says, and high-fives me. I feel like hugging him, but I hold back. It's not a good enough reason to ruin the excitement of this moment. "a-ah! Paper!" I shout, and dive for my notebook. We sit on my bed and inscribe the notes, laughing with eachother, and bragging about the A we're going to get.

"Stay for dinner," I order, when he tries to leave. "Why? We're done," he comments.

"Just stay, okay?" I beg. He shrugs and sits down next to me again.

"Hey, Myungsoo," I urge, "when did you last see your mom?"

"What?" he asks, suddenly growing stiff. "Sungjong said...that you don't get to see your parents often."

"We don't," he says, and in a deep breath, "but I don't really want to talk about it."

"sorry," I whisper, and turn away. Omma calls us, and together we head downstairs. Myungsoo almost tears up at the sight of a home-cooked meal. Clearly, it's been a while. "I hope you like it," Omma says, then playfully slaps my arm, "He's so handsome! Where are you getting all these handsome men?"

"Omma!" I yell, "Thank you," Myungsoo nods his head with a gentle smile, and continues eating.

"So, Myungsoo-ssi," my Omma asks, reaching across the table to put a hand on his arm, "You sing beautifully!"

"Ah, ye," he says, bowing, "Thank you, Mrs. Hyun."

"Ommo! No need for that! call me Omoni!"

"Ah, de, omo..ni."

I laugh at Myungsoo's awkwardness. After dinner, I walk him out of the gate. "I could walk with you for a bit," I suggest. "It's fine, you don't have to."

I step out and close the gate behind me. "I insist."

"Mrs. Hyun, er-- I mean Omoni, is very nice," He comments, gazing numbly at the ground.

"How long?" I ask again.

"A while," he whispers. In the faint light, a glistening tear drips from his eye.

"Wait," I stop him by putting my hand on his shoulder and turn him to face me. His head is down, but I can see him crying.

"the food was really good," he chokes the words out, and his lips rise into a smile.

"It's okay," I don't know what to do. I'm an only child. My friends never cried around me. I've never wiped away another's tears before, and I'm not sure how to do it. But I wish I knew a way. I wish I could help. It tears me apart that I can't. "I'm sure she misses you too," I put my hands on his face and raise his head, "Look at me," tears well up in my eyes, too. Because it pains me to see him cry. "She probably misses you, too."

He nods, and brushes a tear away from his eyes. "Let's go see her together, okay?" He nods again. What can I do? What do I do? My mind is running a mile a minute to figure out a way. But there is no right answer. I wipe his tears away with my thumbs, and lower my hands. He comforted me, so why can't i do the same? I remember how he did it, how he protected me. If that's the way, then I can do it, too. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him in. At first he just stands with me, his body shaking from the tears, silent sobs overwhelming his body. Then slowly, cautiously, he reaches his arms up and wraps them around my waist, balls my jacket in his fist, holding on tightly. Then he lets out a whimper, and pulls me in closer.

"Stop it," I force the words out, and a tear rolls down my cheek. I laugh dryly, "you're making me cry, too."

"You don't talk about this much, do you?" I ask, and his hair. "you keep it bottled up, right?" I shake my head, and swallow. "Don't do that," i whisper, he holds me tighter, "Don't do that.Tell me, okay? You can have dinner with me anytime. My mom loves you," He lets out one more ragged breath and nods.

"I'll walk you home," I say, and gradually release him.

"No, it's dangerous," he opposes, and wipes away his last tear.

"I have cab fare, I'll be fine."

I take off my scarf, and wrap it around him, he chokes out a laugh, and a cloud of air forms where his breathe was.

"okay, now listen, it's only because you're upset," I think aloud, both to myself and Myungsoo. "Only because you're upset, and it's getting dark, but..."

I gently push my hand into his, and twine our fingers together. He doesn't pull his hand away, but squeezes my hand. We walk to his home together in silence, only the sounds of the city between us, and the warmth of two hands to push us on.