A Night of Pouring Rain
Rain fell without pause. Raindrops drummed against the window.
Yeoncheong cracked the door open and peered out from the stairwell, and her jaw dropped.
More rain was falling from the sky than the drains could swallow, and the water swayed around her ankles. If it flooded like this even here, on high ground, other places had to be far worse—or at the very least, no better.
“Wow... no wonder Dad said he couldn't come.”
Suyeon, who had followed her out, took one look at the situation outside and promptly gave up on going home.
“Let's head back in.”
Yeoncheong punched in the passcode again and went inside with Suyeon. In the brief moment they'd stepped out to look, a whole pile of emergency alerts had already accumulated on her phone.
Yeoncheong perched on the edge of the bed, while Suyeon sat down on the floor and glanced around the room.
And then.
“...”
“...”
A suffocating silence settled over them.
***
Yeoncheong, who had ushered her friend inside rather than leave her out in that weather, found her thoughts a tangled mess.
Sending her back out into that was obviously not an option. But putting her up for the night? That had never been part of the plan.
Because of what had happened on the school trip, she'd meant to keep a little distance—and instead she'd just handed over the closest distance of all.
Yeoncheong got up and headed for the room that served as a half-storage closet.
Do we even have a spare blanket?
On the school trip it had been fine, with all the other friends around...
But this was her home.
A place where nothing lay beyond the reach of Yeoncheong's fingertips.
While Yeoncheong, having invited a girl her own age into that place for the very first time, agonized over what on earth to do with tonight—
Suyeon, facing an unplanned overnight stay, was just as much of a mess inside.
I never planned on showing up at a friend's house at a time like this...
Much the same thought, really.
She had, at some point, drawn up a plan to invade Yeoncheong's home one day—but never alone. And certainly not now, when Yeoncheong was squirming by herself like this.
The room had no TV, and all that filled it was the ticking of the clock, the rain lashing hard against the window, and the faint, distant hum of the washing machine.
Then Yeoncheong suddenly stood and headed into the small room. The sound of rummaging drifted out, as if she were searching for something.
Suyeon briefly debated going to help, then shook her head. In moments like this, the polite thing to do was stay put.
...But just looking around a little is fine, right?
They said curiosity was something no human could resist, after all. Quietly rising, Suyeon took in her surroundings.
Left—an unfamiliar scene. Right—an unfamiliar scene.
It was hard to resist the chance to poke around the home of someone her own age living alone, no less—a place she'd never seen before.
So Suyeon spun slowly in place, surveying the room, and her verdict was—
There's less here than I expected.
A bed, a wardrobe, a desk with a desktop PC. Beyond that, the furniture amounted to exactly the bare minimum for living.
A peek inside the wardrobe revealed nothing but the school uniform and a few outfits from the trip.
Did she leave everything behind when she moved out...?
Suyeon perched on the bed, where a single blanket and pillow lay abandoned, and murmured to herself.
“She should have at least one or two stuffed animals.”
At her own words, something seemed to occur to her, and she looked around again.
Black, gray, white, wherever she looked. The colorless palette of the place was far too bleak for a home where a girl lived alone.
Mind you, Yeoncheong had never once shown any sign of liking cute things—but the desolate impression lingered all the same.
A soft, plush texture. As Suyeon absently stroked the blanket, something caught her hand.
Yeoncheong's smartphone.
Lately, her friend had been spending an unusual amount of time glued to it. Could there be a clue inside? Suyeon's fingertips fidgeted.
Confirming that the rummaging sounds still came from the other room, Suyeon squeezed her eyes shut and picked up the phone.
It unlocked without so much as a lock screen. Spread across the black screen was the social media feed Yeoncheong had been scrolling just moments before.
Huh? She said she doesn't do SNS.
The account name itself looked half-heartedly thrown together—like something created in a hurry.
Siyeon. Seobin. And one more account belonging to a man she didn't recognize—that was the entirety of what Yeoncheong had been looking at.
Siyeon had all but abandoned her feed, her last post dating back a year, while Seobin only posted photos of books she'd read along with short reviews.
Naturally, Suyeon's interest drifted toward the man's account.
Maybe a friend from her old school? As she leaned in for a closer look, Suyeon suddenly scrambled to sit up straight.
Yeoncheong returned empty-handed and stared at her friend bouncing on the bed.
“What are you doing?”
“U-um, nothing. I just really like this bed. Siyeon and I always sleep on bunk beds.”
Yeoncheong gave her a suspicious look. Rather than let the interrogation continue, Suyeon struck first.
“You sounded like you were looking for something. Find it?”
“Nope. Wasn't there.”
Conversation over. Just as Yeoncheong opened her mouth to speak again—
Suyeon, checking the clock, cut in urgently.
“S-so, what are we doing about dinner? The weather's like this, so ordering delivery seems like a long shot...”
She'd read somewhere online that university students living on their own almost never cooked for themselves.
If even university students didn't, Suyeon had never in her wildest dreams imagined that Yeoncheong—still a high schooler—would make her own meals.
And yet there she stood: the girl who had cooked for herself and her father since she was little. One whose skills were confident enough that even Chairwoman Yurim had stayed to eat. So when the subject of takeout came up, Yeoncheong's eyebrows twitched.
“Why would we buy food? I'll make us something.”
“Huh?”
A quick glance at the clock. It was a touch late to be starting dinner.
Yeoncheong headed for the kitchen.
She rose up on tiptoe to pull two packs of instant rice from the kitchen cabinet, then crouched down in front of the fridge.
“I always cook for myself. Is there anything you're craving? If it's possible...?”
Her head tilted slightly as she turned back to take the order.
Suyeon had her face buried in the bed like an ostrich.
When Yeoncheong asked if anything was fine, Suyeon nodded—face still shoved into the mattress. Or at least, it seemed like a nod.
Having gathered up her ingredients, Yeoncheong shut the fridge and stood.
Only then did Suyeon pull her head out of the bed.
I'm losing my mind.
An oversized tracksuit that hid nothing of her hips. Dolphin pants that were undeniably comfortable—clearly worn with nothing underneath. When Yeoncheong crouched down and the whole picture was on display, Suyeon had buried her face in sheer shock.
Being home, apparently, meant Yeoncheong's guard was shot to pieces.
“Suyeon.”
“Y-yes!?”
Suyeon jolted—but without even turning around, Yeoncheong pointed at the instant rice.
“Warm these up for me, would you? And if my phone's still over there, bring it too.”
“O-okay.”
Suyeon scrambled off the bed and popped the rice packs into the microwave.
***
Suyeon hovered about uselessly, asking if there was anything she could help with.
“I'm fine. This'll be done in no time. Just set out some plates and utensils instead.”
And with that, Yeoncheong whipped up dinner.
“You never said much about what you like, so I just used what we had. Should be okay, right?”
A rice bowl and pasta. One look made it clear she'd worked with the leftover square ham sitting in the fridge.
The nose-tickling aroma of ham and the bright red ketchup-dressed pasta set the mouth watering on sight.
Yeoncheong stared at her friend expectantly, as if to say, go on, try it.
Suyeon accepted the invitation.
She scooped up an enormous spoonful and stuffed her mouth full of the rice bowl. Yeoncheong watched with a slightly tense expression.
Chewing slowly, cheeks packed full, Suyeon's eyes suddenly lit up. She set down her spoon and thrust a thumb into the air. Only then did Yeoncheong's face soften into a faint smile.
“Good?”
Having finally swallowed everything in her mouth, Suyeon nodded vigorously.
“Yes! It's amazing. Where did you learn to cook?”
Yeoncheong took a small spoonful of her rice bowl and answered.
“Nowhere, really. I just copied things from cookbooks and the internet until it stuck.”
“Seriously? You're way too good at this. Oh—hold on. Wait just a sec.”
Suyeon set her meal aside, grabbed her phone, and snapped a picture of the food.
“Gotta show this off to the girls later~”
“Is it worth that much fuss?”
“Yep. It is.”
Suyeon tasted the pasta next and broke into a blissful smile.
Both hands pressed to her cheeks, lips working as if not a single drop of flavor could be allowed to escape—and completely oblivious to the oversized t-shirt sliding down her shoulder.
Normally Yeoncheong would have turned away in embarrassment, but right now she simply wore a contented smile, watching her friend eat with such evident delight.
“Yeoncheong, hurry up and eat. Keep that up and I might steal yours.”
“Okay, okay.”
At Suyeon's half-serious warning, Yeoncheong finally brought her long-abandoned spoon to her mouth.
Just like when the Chairwoman had come over—food definitely tasted better with company than alone.
***
Suyeon stole a glance at Yeoncheong on the bed.
I thought things had gotten a little better. Guess not?
Laughing and chatting, trading a few light jokes.
In front of a good meal, it had almost seemed like the awkwardness between them was thawing.
But once dinner was done, the stiff air that crept back made it clear that those few minutes had been a fleeting dream.
Or maybe not? Maybe just being together like this counts as making up?
For a long while, Yeoncheong fiddled with her phone on the bed while Suyeon did the same in the desk chair.
Then Suyeon covered her mouth and yawned hugely.
“Sleepy?”
“Yeah. Kind of worn out...”
Suyeon stretched her arms skyward. She'd sprinted through that downpour, after all—it would be stranger if she weren't tired.
The clock had just passed ten thirty. Late enough to be drowsy.
Yeoncheong got up from the bed and said,
“If you're tired, lie down and sleep.”
“And what about you, Yeoncheong?”
Suyeon rose from the chair, and Yeoncheong pointed at the floor.
At that, Suyeon's eyes flew wide open.
“Hey, what kind of guest sleeps in the bed while the homeowner takes the floor? Give me a blanket. I'll sleep down here.”
“No way. This is my fault anyway. Just sleep in the bed. I'll sit in the chair a while and then crash.”
The moment her friend started dodging the question, sharp-eyed Suyeon fixed her with a piercing look from those blue eyes.
“Yeoncheong. Look at me.”
Yeoncheong averted her gaze instead. A possibility dawned on Suyeon, and she said it out loud.
“You don't have any extra blankets, do you?”
Yeoncheong flinched—and the suspicion hardened into certainty.
“You were planning to put me to bed first and just sleep on the floor, weren't you?”
Yeoncheong sat there, struck dumb. Suyeon pressed on.
“Are you doing this on purpose? Because I make you uncomfortable?”
“No, that's not it. I just... wanted you to sleep comfortably up there...”
“How am I supposed to sleep comfortably knowing you're on the floor with no blanket?”
Unlike Yeoncheong's retreating excuses, Suyeon's voice—taut with feeling—grew sharper by the second.
Outmatched by the momentum, Yeoncheong shrank back bit by bit, and Suyeon, seated on the bed, lifted the edge of the blanket.
“There's plenty of room for two. Let's just sleep together.”
On the surface, her manner looked perfectly composed.
But the only person she'd ever shared a blanket with was her twin, Siyeon. It took every ounce of courage she had to say those words.
And yet Yeoncheong still stood there, hemming and hawing, hesitating.
With a deep, deep sigh, Suyeon looked up at her with an expression colder than Siyeon's had ever been.
“Hey. Ha Yeoncheong. Do you hate me?”
The last day of the school trip, and the story Yeoncheong had refused to finish. The stiff, distant way she'd kept her space. The way she'd bolted off recently without so much as hearing her out.
It was only natural that Suyeon's voice—irritation quietly stacking up for a while now—had turned to ice.