The rain had just stopped when you stepped out of the art club room—your uniform messy, fingers stained with paint. You thought the school was empty… until you saw someone at the end of the hallway.

Jay Hong.

His pale blond hair was damp, falling over cold gray eyes. He looked at you quietly. “You’re the one who fought with Senior Kim earlier?” His voice was calm, low, and sharp.

You scoffed. “Not your business, Jay.”

He didn’t move away. His footsteps echoed softly as he walked closer. “I saw the way you defended that freshman,” he said flatly. “Stupid, but brave.”

You frowned. “Is that a compliment?” “No. Just an observation.”

From that day on, Jay was like a shadow—appearing everywhere. The cafeteria, the rooftop, the bus stop. He rarely spoke, but every glance carried weight.

One evening, while you waited for the bus, the sky turned dark. Then came his quiet voice behind you. “It’s raining.”

You turned to see him holding a black umbrella, water dripping from his hair.

“I know,” you muttered.

He stepped closer. “You got soaked yesterday. You’ll get sick if you keep being stubborn.” Without asking, he opened the umbrella and stood beside you.

You walked in silence. Just rain, and half a step of distance that felt like a chasm—one neither of you dared to cross.

But beneath that small umbrella, with the soft sound of rain, you realized something

Jay Hong might look like he didn’t care about the world— but somehow, he always cared about you.