Echoes of the Rain

Drifting back into our separate worlds

At the end of the period, Yohan went to the staff room. A few minutes later, he returned, his expression a little sad and disappointed. I could see it clearly, even though he was trying to hide it. He sat down at his desk, and I turned around to face him. He immediately covered his face with his hand, as if he didn't want me to see the look of frustration on his face.

"Teacher is teaching over there, not here, dummy," he muttered, his voice low.

I turned back around, sensing he wasn't in the mood to talk. I tried to focus on the lesson, but my mind kept drifting back to him.

As soon as the teacher left the room, I turned back again, unable to hold back my concern. "Yohan, what happened? Was the teacher really hard on you?"

He gave a small, forced smile. "Calm down, it's not that bad, okay? My grades aren't that terrible," he said, trying to sound cheerful, but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. I knew he didn't want me to feel bad for him. He was always like that-putting on a brave face, trying to lighten the mood even when he was hurting.

I decided not to push him for more. I knew he needed space, and I didn't want to make him feel worse by pressing for details. So, we sat there in a strange, uncomfortable silence, both pretending like everything was fine. It was unusual-normally, Yohan was the one filling the space between us with jokes or laughter, but today, there was a quiet tension that neither of us seemed able to break.

As the final bell rang and class ended, we gathered our things. The room buzzed with students eager to leave, but I felt an odd heaviness in my chest. I wanted to reach out, to say something that would make him feel better, but no words seemed right. So, I simply walked out with the rest, hoping he'd find his way back to his usual self.

At the bookstore, I felt a nervous flutter in my chest as I turned to Jiho. "Jiho, how was your result? I didn't ask you at college."

Jiho shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Average as usual. But congrats on getting first rank."

"Oh... thanks," I replied, but my mind was elsewhere. I hesitated, unsure of how to ask about Yohan without sounding too concerned.

"But I felt a little sad for Yohan," Jiho continued, surprising me. "But I know he can do his best in the upcoming exams and reclaim his position as first."

I bit my lip, trying to keep my tone casual. "Is he angry?"

Jiho looked at me, puzzled. "Angry for what? He's not like other people who get upset over small things."

"Oh, I see..." I murmured, feeling a mix of relief and confusion.

Jiho's expression softened. "He's happy for you, you know."

I nodded, but his words didn't ease the tight knot of worry in my chest.

As our conversation ended, we returned to our tasks, but my mind was elsewhere, drifting back to Yohan. I could barely concentrate. I felt an urgency, a desperate need to see his smile again-to know he was okay. The thought of him feeling down or disappointed made my heart ache in a way I didn't quite understand. I just needed to see him, to make sure he was alright.

After our shift, I hurried to the music room, my steps quickening with each thought of him. As I reached the door, I took a deep breath and pushed it open, hoping to find him there. But the room was empty, and the familiar echo of the piano was replaced by a heavy silence.

I sat down in the chair where I usually sat while he played, staring at the piano keys that seemed to taunt me with their stillness. Minutes turned into an hour, and there was still no sign of him. The worry in my chest grew into a dull, painful ache. I pulled out my phone and dialed his number, but it went straight to voicemail-his phone was off.

My heart sank. I felt a wave of helplessness wash over me, like a heavy weight pressing down on my chest. I stood up slowly, feeling lost and unsure. Where could he be? Why wasn't he here? I needed to see him, to make sure he was okay, to see that familiar smile that always seemed to make everything better.

I stepped out of the music room, my hands trembling slightly. The cool air hit my face, but it did little to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside me. I looked around, hoping for a glimpse of him somewhere, anywhere. But there was only the fading light of the evening and the growing shadows around me, echoing the emptiness I felt inside.

The next day, I walked into the classroom, feeling a sense of unease hanging in the air. Our section had been divided into three groups, and a notice was posted on the board, listing the students assigned to each group. My eyes scanned the paper quickly, searching for my name-and there it was, under a different group from Yohan's. My heart sank with a sudden wave of disappointment. We wouldn't be sitting in the same room anymore. Why did this have to happen now, of all times?

Determined to see him, I quickly made my way to his new classroom, hoping to find him there, but when I peeked inside, he was nowhere to be seen. A knot of frustration tightened in my chest as I turned and walked back to my own classroom, my steps heavy with the weight of uncertainty. I reached my bench and dropped my bag on it, unable to shake the feeling that everything was changing too quickly, just when I didn't want it to.

Classes started and ended, each day passing in a blur. I didn't get a chance to see Yohan, not even once. The rumors spread quickly-Jiho had transferred out of the college. The news hit me hard; just yesterday, we had talked, but he hadn't mentioned a word about leaving. Why didn't he tell me? I couldn't help but feel a pang of betrayal mixed with confusion. It felt like everyone around me was slipping away, one by one.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. I hardly saw Yohan around the college. Our paths never crossed, and the distance between us seemed to grow wider with each passing day. We didn't call or text each other anymore. It was as if we were returning to the lives we had before we met, drifting back into our separate worlds, each of us carrying on as if the other had never existed. But in quiet moments, I couldn't help but feel the emptiness where our bond once was.