The first time Yeji forgot her umbrella, it didn’t matter. It had only drizzled—just enough to speckle her sleeves and dampen her hair. She ran the short walk home, boots splashing in shallow puddles, laughing quietly to herself. But the second time?
The bell rang. Chairs scraped against the linoleum floor. Students rushed to zip their bags and dart for the doors before the downpour got worse. Wooyoung slouched in the back, arms crossed, waiting for the crowd to thin out like always. He never liked the rush.
Yeji stayed behind too, standing by the window with her lips pressed together.
“Don’t tell me you forgot it again,” he said from across the room, his voice flat.
She didn’t answer at first, just kept looking outside. The rain slapped hard against the glass, and the sky looked bruised with clouds. The janitor outside fumbled with a tarp, cursing under his breath.
Yeji finally glanced over. “I thought it wouldn’t rain.”
He scoffed. “It’s the rainy season, dummy.”
She didn’t say anything, just pulled her bag closer and adjusted the ribbon in her hair.
“Why don’t you ask your seatmate?” Wooyoung nodded toward a boy she sat next to—someone who’d already opened his umbrella and was laughing with his friend in the hallway.
“I don’t want to bother him.”
Wooyoung stood, swung his bag over his shoulder, and walked toward the door. He passed her without looking, muttering, “Wait here.”
Yeji blinked. “What?”
“I said wait,” he repeated, and then he was gone—just the sound of his sneakers slapping through puddles.
She waited.
Three, five, seven minutes.
The hallway was almost empty by the time he came back, drenched from hair to shoes, but holding a flimsy green umbrella above his head.
Yeji stared. “Where did you—”
“Lost and found,” he lied. She would later find out he took it from the teacher’s rack outside the faculty room. “Let’s go.”
She hesitated. “You’re soaked…”
He looked down at himself, then back at her. “Yeah. So you don’t have to be.”
They walked side by side under the barely-working umbrella. It was too small. His shoulder and backpack were half exposed, but he kept nudging it toward her to keep her dry.
“Thanks,” she said, voice soft.
“Don’t get used to it,” he muttered, avoiding her eyes.
At the crosswalk, just before they parted ways, she reached into her pocket and handed him something small. A keychain—a tiny cat with a gold bell, from her pencil case zipper. The one he’d returned the week before.
“It’s for your bag,” she said. “So it won’t look so angry.”
He stared at it. “My bag doesn’t look angry.”
She smiled. “Now it definitely won’t.”
He didn’t say anything. Just pocketed it, shook the water from his hair, and walked off.
The next day, it hung from the zipper of his backpack—clumsily tied, the little bell jingling with every step.
Nobody dared ask him why.
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AUTHOR SPEAKS !
hi, everyoneee! :)))))))
a few more chapters before act i ends!!!
AND A FEW MORE DAYS BEFPRE S2 WAAAHHH IM SO EXCITED GUYS 🤭🤭
