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His first days in Korea were so busy, and chaotic. Shotaro had been running everywhere, doing paperwork, finding an apartment, and arranging other accommodations that promised to make his life somewhat easier.
He usually started his days at six, ending them at exactly midnight. Starting with taking Korean lessons when he was finally all settled in at the kitchen table, then heading to the studio and practicing choreography alongside his peers.
He was dancing around life like a dumb teenager too—clubbing, running from train to train. His free time is spent only on creating new memories in this new city.
Until it happened.
My emotions full of earthy scents
Tremble as if they were spilling over
His name was Park Wonbin, and Shotaro met him on a quick trip—he had been invited for free to improve his language with native people—to Ulsan. He remembered how it happened because the moment was both gracious and weird. Wonbin, in general, had been profoundly strange, and it affected Shotaro in the best way.
Wonbin had captivated him as if it had been a first love.
That day, Shotaro was supposed to fetch some beer—his Korean just good enough to do that and hold proper basic conversations now—while the rest of his friends manned the barbecue.
Maybe he's coming to share the small umbrella
The walk to the store had been longer than expected, and despite it being summer, soft rain had begun to pour less than five minutes ago.
It was a blessing that Shotaro’s climatic prediction had been spot-on; a sudden wind current and a shift in the atmosphere tipped him off.
His umbrella was translucent, allowing him a full view of a wonderful field of sunflowers across the meadow while shielding him from the rain. Shotaro didn’t fight the urge to stop and take pictures, despite the quality of his flip-phone leaving much to be desired.
As he snapped photos in a rampage, trying to capture the memory intact, the sound of footsteps and movement caught his attention. A soaked, long-haired boy stepped into Shotaro’s umbrella, invading his personal space with an obnoxiously shy smile on his plump lips. His veiny hands held what seemed to be a bag of groceries; droplets fell from his fingertips.
Shotaro didn’t object or asked questions, allowing him to step in carefreely, quickly taking the last picture of the sunflower field before flipping his phone shut with a loud click.
The boy was so pretty—stunning enough to take Shotaro’s breath away, making him forget, even for a moment, that he needed air to survive. His gaze followed a single raindrop traveling from the boy’s hair down to his collarbone. It's so distracting.
Could it be a summer day’s miracle?
As the rain on Wonbin’s skin began to dry, Shotaro finally woke from his reverie. By the look on Wonbin's eyes, he's been already caught. Shotaro isn't usually timid, but the weight of the cat-like eyes is strong. His eyes darted away for a moment before he begans, like proper person would, in these situations.
“Looks like you’ve been thrown a bucket,” He mumbled awkwardly; his Korean still came out slurred, difficult on the tongue, or maybe Wonbin's presence made him forget how to talk.
He moved the umbrella to better fit the blonde underneath, and Shotaro felt a rainbow bloom in his heart. As girly as that sounds.
The blond-haired boy’s big, round eyes studied him as though he were some sort of supernatural being, stepping closer just once before stopping when their shoes touched and breaths mingled. His pupils were dilated, though Shotaro only vaguely understood why that might happen in humans.
In cats, it often meant excitement for something they liked.
Why does it happens now?
“Sure. I hope it was a bucket.” His tone wasn’t what Shotaro expected, though Shotaro wasn’t sure what he had anticipated from a stranger.
When another droplet slid from Wonbin’s cheek, Shotaro quickly wiped it away, almost instinctively, rubbing it off with his thumb. His face flushed, and his emotions were all over the place like overgrown grass sprouting into every corner possible.
He couldn’t shake the deep, growing feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time he crossed paths with the blond boy. Ulsan wasn’t that big, after all—or so Shotaro hoped.
“Did you come to share the umbrella?” Shotaro asked slowly, doing his best to pronounce the words correctly.
“If I did, will you escort me home?”
Shotaro grinned until his cheeks ached, nodding as their shoes accidentally touched again before he started to walk. His mission at the store was forgotten—he was more of a sake guy than a beer guy, anyway.
They continued to meet after that. Wonbin was a local, often running errands for his family—a family Shotaro eventually got to meet as he continued escorting Wonbin home through the stormy streets of Ulsan.
He told Wonbin he was a freshman, studying some money-making major in Seoul. A lie, blunt and easy, meant to make him seem less like a poor loser. Meant to impress Wonbin. Meant to earn another one of his kisses.
The way the lie rolled off his tongue so easily, Wonbin’s excited eyes always sparkled as if Shotaro were his ticket out of the small-town boy realm, to some happily-ever-after like the sappy movies they caught together at drive-ins. The guilt twisted in his stomach but was quickly replaced with the need to keep Wonbin interested enough.
There was something about Wonbin that seemed like a dream come true. Unreal, and taken from one of Shotaro's sinful dreams back in high school when he was barely recognized he was into guys too. It was the way he was adorable; joining his fists together at the center of his chest as he listened to Shotaro tell stories about Osaka or Harajuku in his still-clumsy Korean.
Or the way Wonbin tried his best to subdue the pressure of his family, keeping up with being utterly himself. Or something simple, like his giggles when he finally beat Shotaro’s score at the local arcade.
He was totally smitten.
I couldn't see the futurе, like the sunshower passing by
We always crossed paths, unlike my wishes
Like the rainbow after a shower
Please don't stay for only a moment
In the extensive summer, hours seemed strangely longer and the sun stayed up further. Wonbin and his ways crossed a few hundred times. It was an exaggeration, but sure, it was often. Sometimes planned, like arcade trips; others by sheer coincidence. A ride on the same bus, shared laughs when they met in the same bakery in the morning, swimming into each other at the pool.
They burned themselves into Shotaro's memory like sunlight through a magnifying glass.
Fading them wasn’t an option.
There was one moment Shotaro returned to often; when, so tired from moving that he collapsed into the dim dance classroom's couch, his aching body made him miss Wonbin, as if that lithe body could cure him.
It was a day when the sun painted every street in Ulsan a shimmering gold, the kind of oppressive summer heat that felt alive, burning beautifully. They had run into each other close to the town's farmer’s market, deciding quickly to stay magnetized to each other’s hip.
They wandered aimlessly, as if there was somewhere to go.
Wonbin didn't seem to decide where, and Shotaro didn't want to meet expectations, so neither did. That's how they reached Ulsan's bay. It wasn't flooded with people yet at that hour of the morning. Soon, it would be crowded. Wonbin's hand was on his wrist before Shotaro could articulate anything, pulling him toward a tree.
Shade and foliage covered them as they drew closer. Shotaro's hands placed themselves naturally on Wonbin's waist. He could feel everything, truly. Wonbin's tank top did little to hide the firmness of his abdomen beneath Shotaro's fingertips.
Shotaro found himself looking too much at the curve of Wonbin’s neck, sunlight caught on his skin, leaving it glowing, radiant, and almost whispering for Shotaro to kiss his sharp jaw. Maybe—maybe just run it all the way to his lips. He blacked out for a second there, almost reacting to his dirty thoughts.
Now, he's wishing he could’ve dirtied some of the memories.
“This place is neat,” Shotaro asks; his Korean is getting better these days. There's a slight accent to his words that he picked up from his lover, it still needs refinement though. “Don't know why you wanna to leave it."
Wonbin’s eyes sharpened, annoyingly rolling before settling on Shotaro. It lasted only a few seconds, but even in its brevity, Shotaro quivered.
“Not right now. It feels like everything I need is here,” The blond’s voice was barely more than a hum, as he locked eyes with Shotaro unable to let the oldest look away. So seductive. "now."
For a long moment, they sat in silence, hands crossing and mapping all they could touch of each other in a public space—and everything not covered in sweat. The river's flow was calming enough, or Shotaro would have gone further that day, he knows it even now. He had been too into it–Into the way Wonbin's hand held his as they hump each other like dumb teens, whispering that he wasn't joking between whimpers.
But back then, Shotaro couldn't see the future for either of them. Nor did he try to make one. Everything felt like a summer storm—unpredictable and powerful enough to flood his heart, leaving behind a wistful ache.
They are like tears from the sky (I'll remember)
My heart fluttered like the shimmering heat
If only Wonbin had stayed a moment longer that last day. Maybe then Shotaro would have reconsidered everything. Maybe he wouldn’t have gone back to his skimpy apartment in Seoul, wouldn’t have tried to forget that he’d fallen for a boy—A townie boy who was more goddess-like than any idol he'd worked with.
But fate seemed determined to let them meet only in fleeting, intense moments. Moments like windstorms. Wonbin, unfortunately, was unforgettable. And Shotaro always found himself thinking about the last time.
That last time, Wonbin left him a few steps from the tiny bus station when one of his aunties recognized him from across the street. Wonbin, weird and endearing, threw the groceries Shotaro had gotten for him to the ground and ran to the old lady without a second thought. He's laughing, merrier than the fussy, quiet cat Shotaro met at first.
Shotaro watched, eyes softening, overwhelmed by the desire to wait for Wonbin, to steal one last kiss, to promise he'll be back. But he ran from it.
This time, he ran toward the bus that would take him back to Seoul, to his unpredictable, unpaid job as a background dancer. Not even the main one. He wasn’t supposed to be in the spotlight. Especially not the spotlight of Wonbin’s crystal-clear love for him, for the lie that Shotaro told.
Now, summer rain always reminds him of tears and kepts him awake with thoughts of him.
Will a miracle come true?
Waiting outside his new company, Shotaro watches the rain pour.
This time, it’s winter. It might start snowing soon. And he’s remembering the only summer he ever had where he was truly joyful—where life felt like a merry-go-round.
The warmth he'd felt back then couldn't be found again, even if he got closer to the stove back at home. It wasn't his heat; it wasn't his embrace.
Shotaro’s overworked now. Not that he isn’t happy doing what he loves—dancing is his life's passion, couldn't replace with anything else. But there’s something he misses, something that being one of S.E.S.'s dancers or firming with SM Ent. hasn’t quite fulfilled.
After the fleeting moments he spent with Wonbin in that small town, there hasn’t been another opportunity for Shotaro to love as passionate as he did.
He doesn’t feel it anymore.
Maybe the rain washed it away.
Just like it’s washing over his entire body now.
With a long sigh, Shotaro shifts uncomfortably at the taxi stop.
There’s a moment where everything pauses, and he wonders—has the rain stopped, just for this street?
Turning his head, Shotaro’s gaze lands on a sight to behold. Sunflowers being held in a rainbow paper. An umbrella. And… it's Wonbin.
Wonbin, with short hair that's curly now, he's brunette, with a smile that’s no longer shy, obnoxious. It’s wide, showing his gums. Similar to the last one he saw.
Shotaro smiled then too, more subtle, just as happy.
His hands were trembling. All of him was.
Softening eyes meets those same big, blown-out eyes. The exact frame of the past brought back to life.
“It looks like a bucket of water was thrown on you,” Wonbin says, mimicking their first encounter.
Like a haze, like drizzle on the leaves. A memory of a summer day filled with joy and sadness.
If the shiny season passes, will you keep soaking me forever?
So beautiful, like a stream of rainwater.