That dream came to visit Kim Hanbin once again.

He’s running on—what seems like—a never ending boulevard. He’s running and running and running; taking deep, heavy, violent gasps of air as sunlight smashes against his skin like sharp needles; his toes are going numb from the agony; strangely, he’s still running despite all of this.

It was a strange dream, because stopping doesn’t even cross his mind.

And when he finally reaches the end of that never ending boulevard, he finds himself accelerating even faster, unable to stop even though he knows for sure he’s going to fall if he carries on. He knows that the road leads to nothingness. Of course, there’s no image that passes on to that information, but Hanbin just knew.

Many people usually wake up when they fall in their dreams. Whether it was a fall from a building, a mountain, a simple trip-over—or a fall in love.

But even at this point, Hanbin would remain.

He is still falling—from a very high point, it seems, as the time he was taking to fall was defying gravity. It looks cartoon, almost. It also feels so nice; there’s a cool breeze nudging lightly, very gently against his body, making him think that the endless, agonizing run he just finished was all very worth it.

It almost feels like heaven.

And then there’s a crash. A bang. A splash of blood.

A scream for help.

Hanbin hits the very bottom of nothingness. The pain from the fall starts in his back, spreads like wildfire to both his arms and legs, and then hurts the entirety of his body. It’s a very sharp feeling of pain, causes him to stop breathing; slowly, but surely, he starts to feel his lungs drowning in his own blood. And that pain is enough to wake him up before it even starts to numb.

Before Hanbin wakes up, he has enough time, in seconds—even milliseconds—to wonder:

What was he even running from in the first place?

. . .

The smell of antiseptics, the fabric of the bed-sheets and how crusty it felt against his skin, the pillows which were way too soft. Hanbin didn’t even have to open his eyes to know that he was in the hospital.

Carefully, his eyes began to unfold, confused as to how he ended up there when he knew for sure that he slept in his bedroom last night (last night?). Hanbin was positive because he remembered exchanging messages with Hayi—discussing the future and what (or who) they wanted to be.

Hayi wanted to be a teacher. And Hanbin told her that he’d simply want to live. His second choice was, however, becoming a doctor.

Streaming in through the windows, the moonlight from outside shone with dazzling brightness on Hanbin’s left side. How long did he sleep this time? He wondered, as he remembered that last time, it took him three days to wake up. The time before that, it took him one. The boy could only sigh, as he breathed out these very words, “How many more ing times?”

Despite the tubes—the painful, long needles—that were attached to the skin of his hand, with a slight groan, Hanbin managed to reach for his phone.

Two unread messages from Hayi.

Hello. – Hayi

Spring? – Hayi

Those were written five days ago.

Ah, five days. He was knocked out for five days, Hanbin realized. He sat there, still for a moment, letting that number sink into his brain.

And then came a horrible thought: what if next time, he doesn’t wake up at all?

God that felt cruel—almost unfair. Out of all things, why did there need to be a countdown to his own death? The thought of it made Hanbin laugh in irony.

There was a turmoil in his heart, and he felt it stirring with the force of a storm. Thinking too much about it only made it worse, because then the boy would hear the universe once again telling him, in a very quiet whisper, “Hey, Hanbin, you’re dying. This is just a glimpse of what it feels like.”

He figured that won’t be very bad, though. Minus the excruciating nightmare, Hanbin quite fancied himself a peaceful death.

I’m sorry for replying so late. – Spring                                        

Are you okay? – Hayi

Honestly, I’m not. – Spring

. . .

“Do you have any friends at all?”

Hayi flinched upon hearing Jiwon’s voice. All this time, he’d stayed there so quietly, playing on his DS alone, that she’d forgotten he was sat there all along. It’d been exactly two weeks since their first meeting.

She looked up from her book to find a pair of unwavering eyes meeting her stare. “Excuse me?”

“Friends,” he answered. “Do you have any?”

Strangely enough, it was Spring who crossed her mind first. But, of course, there were those girls from her homeroom who labelled themselves as her friends, too. “I do.”

“Then how come you’re always alone?”

“I like it better here,” she replied.

“What’s so good about it?”

“You tell me, you’re always here as well, aren’t you?”

“I have my reasons.”

With that, she just jerked her head sideways, and put her focus back on the page.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what they are?” the boy probed on.

“For starters, I’m not your counsellor. Second, I don’t care, so why should I ask?”

Silence surrounded the two.

“Why don’t you act like a decent person for once?” he retaliated, his voice hinting frustration.

The girl could only stare at him.

Not again, she thought, as she felt a storm brewing inside of her.

Why did she have to hear that sentence again—why, out of all the words in the human vocabulary—why did he choose the same ones that had haunted her for so long?

Just how long had she been running away from those very words?

Two years?

Ah, it’s been that long already?

Much to Jiwon’s surprise, Hayi didn’t respond. Instead, she just looked blankly at the air, her complexion getting paler by each second that went past. And with that, Hayi grabbed her bag and left.

. . .

Hayi felt something surge from her gut into . She covered to supress the gagging sound that was trying to leave; and just when she made it to the bathroom in time, her breakfast came spewing out, covering the entire toilet.

It was simply proof that those words tasted too bitter. 

Those words led to a memory that caused greater heartache with every passing day.

And when she had nothing left in her stomach to throw up, Hayi could only sit hopelessly on the floor, basking in silence as she thought about what to do next. How can she possibly go back to class looking like that? No, screw that, what would she say next time she sees Jiwon?

Sorry?

Slumping forward, the girl buried her face in her hands and started to sob with a suffocating violence.

Truth was, Hayi knew that it wasn’t Jiwon’s fault at all. Of course, it would have been better if it was his fault, because that meant she could easily put the blame on somebody other than herself.

However, Hayi knew better than that.

Because she knew that’s exactly what happens when people like her tries to run away from the past. Not only does it come back at the most unexpected time, it also overtakes. She knew this from the start, and yet she still kept running.

Running and running and running.

The school bell rang, but the young woman found no motivation to move.

Funny, she thought. Crying on her own, trapping herself in one of the bathroom stalls, hoping no one would find her there. Two years later and she was still in the same spot as she was in back then. She still felt as pathetic as the girl she was two years ago.

All this running; all this build-up to a great leap, and yet she didn't even fall or fly. Instead she was back on the edge of the cliff, blinking and wondering if she’d ever jumped at all.

But maybe—just maybe, there was a difference.

Because this time, she wanted to be found.

. . .

Hanbin waited under the rooftop’s wooden canopy, as he watched the late October rain scatter to the ground, missing his body by just barely a couple of inches.

“So it decides to rain today,” the young man smiled, clasping his hands together as a lit cigarette dangled from his lips. He sat on the low timber table and watched, almost drowsily, as the rain went on heavier by the second. “Happy birthday,” he said in his singsong voice.

And, as if someone heard his thoughts, Hanbin’s phone suddenly rang with the name of the person he was thinking of displayed on the screen.

That made him confused for a moment, because he didn’t remember telling her when his birthday was. Nevertheless, it was true that they had talked about so many things—so much, actually, to the point that he even knew her favourite colour was red. And so maybe he had told her after all, he thought to himself, but he just couldn’t pinpoint when.

Hanbin slid the screen.

For a moment, there was just silence between.

And then he heard it—the sound of a person breaking down. Hanbin felt guilty for even hearing it. Especially when it came from her. It felt like he was eavesdropping on the world she always kept a secret from everybody else.

Now, he couldn’t bring himself to hang up even if he wanted to, and that because he couldn’t do anything but listen to sound of her cry. All he could really do was offer her the silence that she needed.

After a minute or two, the crying from the end of the other line stopped. It was quiet from there on. The silence was filled with the sound of the rain.

That first silence was broken by her.

“Do you like the rain?” she suddenly asked, deftly dropping ink into the clear waters of Hanbin’s heart.

“I love the rain,” he answered.

“Even when it causes accidents to happen and things to collide?”

“Yep,” Hanbin said. “I love it even then. How about you?”

“It’s different each day.”

“Then how about today?”

“Today,” she admitted, “today is one of those days where I really hate it.”

“And why is that?”

The voice on the line remained quiet.

“I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself,” the boy quoted.

“Franz Kafka,” she replied quietly. “You read his books?”

“I’ve never ever heard of the guy,” Hanbin shyly admitted. “While I was looking for a book to put the note inside of, I came across that quote, you see. It was all highlighted in pink.”

“But your note was inside of another book...”

“Somebody must have chosen the Kafka book and placed the note in that one—inside the book that you chose.”

“I see.”

“Strange, isn’t it? I keep thinking, what if you chose another book and someone else picked up my note? How weird that must have been.”

His voice was deeper than she’d ever realized, but sort of warm in the middle.

“Spring,” Hayi suddenly said. A little hesitation crossed her voice, he could tell. Maybe a thought, but ultimately, it didn’t stop her from saying these very words: 

“Do you mind if we meet today?”

. . .

only one who knows (and rain) // do you like the rain?