I wanted to reach out. To say something. To sit beside him and listen.

But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Instead, I found myself wandering by the hallways near his class. Just to get a glimpse of him. At break time, I’d look for him on purpose. And I always found him in the backyard, sitting alone on that same bench, quietly eating lunch. Never talking to anyone. Just… there.

But I still couldn’t approach him.

(This isn’t like me at all. Usually, when something grabs my attention, I dive in without hesitation. But now… why am I being so careful?)

(Why does it feel like I want to impress him or something?) 

I signed deeply and heavily staring at the rain outside the window. Everyone stared at me. (Oh, I am in the class. I forgot.) "Sorry about that, please carry on." I said loud and clear and continued to stared back outside tbe window..

(Lately, I’ve noticed something strange happening whenever I see his face.

My heart starts thumping—loud, erratic. Not the usual kind of “oh, they’re good-looking” reaction. It’s more like… drums banging . Loud. Violent. Unreasonable...

I don’t get it. Yeah, sure, Miho’s good-looking. That’s easy to see. But it’s more than that.

Whenever I catch him with that blank, unreadable expression... it stings. I feel this weird tightness in my chest, like I want to tear through whatever wall he’s hiding behind and just get to him somehow. Make him laugh. Make him feel something.

)

But the moment he smiles—fake or not—my whole brain just short-circuits.

And that’s what I can’t stop thinking about.

He still smiles. (His smile is literally the angeliest sight In the world.)

Even when people whisper as he walks by.
Even when they give him looks like he’s something they scraped off their shoe.
Even after everything he’s been through.

He still shows up. Still walks the halls with his head held high—even if it’s forced. Still eats quietly on the same back bench every lunch like it doesn’t bother him. I know it does. But he never lets anyone see it. Not really.

That’s what got me.

It wasn’t the moles near his mouth (though yeah, I have noticed them—and yes, I kind of want to touch them, sue me). It wasn’t just the mystery, or the rumors, or how ridiculously pretty he looks when the light hits his hair just right.

It was the fact that even in silence—even surrounded by people who treated him like he didn’t belong—he still carried himself with this quiet strength.

At first, I told myself I was just curious. That’s how it always starts for me. Find something interesting. Get obsessed. Move on.

But six months passed.

Six.

Months.

(For how many months did I watch him again? 1- 2- 3- 4-5-6...6 months?)

I widen my eyes. (Aren’t I the stalker here?) I finally came to realize this fact.

And somewhere along the way, I stopped watching for curiosity’s sake.

I started watching because I cared.

…Which brings me to my current breakdown.

I caught myself imagining him smiling at me. Standing next to me. Talking to me. I even dreamed about him once, and when I woke up, I nearly screamed into my pillow.

And when I caught myself staring at the little mole by his mouth like I was about to reach out and touch it?

That’s when it hit me.

I could’ve talked to him. Could’ve sat beside him at lunch. Could’ve just said hi. But I didn’t.

Instead, I lingered nearby. Circled like a satellite. Always orbiting, never landing.

Because I was scared.

Scared that if I got too close, I’d feel something I couldn’t explain away. Scared that it was already too late, and I did like him. Not as a rumor, or a story, or some pretty distraction.

But for real.

So I tried the obvious solution.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Avoid him. Forget him. Erase the strange rhythm my heart had started to play.

But as I turned away from the window and headed to class, I already knew—

It was too late for that..

***

In the present, still looking out of the window. (It has already been a week since the realization hit me like a truck, and I still found myself standing by the classroom window, watching the same dull scenery outside.

(…God. I know I haven’t really talked to you lately. Haven’t exactly been… praying or anything. But if you still care—I mean you are such a grand being that you won't be upset just because I didn't pray to you, right?—can I ask for just one sign? One tiny miracle.)

(If he talks to me first… just once… I swear, I’ll stop being a coward and actually talk to him.)

(I know, I know. It’s childish. Selfish. I’m just running away. But…)

The final bell rang, pulling me back to reality. I grabbed my umbrella and slipped out of the classroom as soon as the teacher left, my heart still tangled in that silent prayer.

I made my way down the school steps and paused at the bottom. That’s when I saw him.

Miho.

Standing at the front gate, staring at the rain like he belonged in some melancholic visual novel. Still. Alone. No umbrella.

(What’s he doing? Just standing there… is he waiting for someone?)

A part of me stirred—an instinct, a want—to go to him. Offer my umbrella. Say something. Anything.

(I could just pretend I’m being nice. It’s normal to share, right? He doesn’t know I’ve been watching him for months. I could just—)

"You don’t have an umbrella?"

A girl’s voice broke through my thoughts.

I froze.

She stepped closer to him, holding her umbrella and looking up at him with wide, blushing cheeks. Brown hair, short with front bangs. Big, gentle eyes.

It was her. The girl who had once accused him of reading her letter.

(What the hell…?)

She smiled nervously. “Do you want to share mine?”

He looked at her.

And he smiled back.

“Thank you.”

Dosu dosu.

My heart. It didn’t just skip—it sank.

That smile… it wasn’t the tired, polite smile he wore when someone forced interaction on him. It was soft. Real. Like he actually meant it.

(That’s new…)

I watched them walk away, side by side beneath the umbrella.

(So… he has someone now.)

(I should feel relieved, right? This is what I wanted. For him to have a friend. Someone to talk to. Someone to smile with.)

But my fists clenched around the umbrella handle.

(I don’t like it.)

(I don’t want to feel this way.)

I looked down, rain tapping gently against my shoes. Dosu dosu. My heart kept pounding. In pain. In regret.

(If only…)

(If only I had reached out. If only I hadn’t waited for a “sign.” If only I hadn’t been so scared.)

It could’ve been me.

It should have been me standing there with him, holding that umbrella.

(Why did I wait?)

(Why did I think I had all the time in the world?)

I stepped out into the rain.

My umbrella shielded me from the water, but it couldn’t shield me from the ache twisting in my chest. I walked slowly, head down, the weight of my own choices pressing against my spine.

I forced a smile, but it didn’t reach my eyes.

(Ah… I just realized something.)

(I’m really, really lame.)

And for the first time, the loneliness I used to shrug off didn’t feel empty.

It felt earned.