"What does love mean to you?"

Summer was the perfect season to be in love.

Chan had always thought of her as his sun. She had always been shining continuously, tirelessly, sincerely - she was his everything. Summer goes well with Minjae rather strangely. While his other friends contemplated over how to get over the unbearable heat of this scorching season, Chan had paid attention to the way her eyes turned into a lighter shade of brown in the rays of the sun, or the way she spends most of her time by her window - popsicle in hand, hair blowing from her rustic stand fan that rattled endlessly, her tank top that stuck to her skin, lips murmuring to the melody of a musical they had performed years ago - or the way she shone brighter than any other sun, if there were to be two, three, or even thousands that exist.

"Hey," he gently nudged her with his elbow. Minjae lifted her head to face him with a rather dazed look; eyes half open and her eyebrows furrowed together. Chan realized that her script had long fell onto the floor next to her sneakers, and it was only him that had been reading his lines the entire time.

"You were asleep?" Chan asked in disbelief, trying hard not to laugh when Minjae had used her sleeve to wipe any residue of her drool, not that there was even any in the first place.

"Hey, come on! It's your line now." Chan told her to go on, pretending to sound calm despite his rapid heartbeat when he felt her strands of hair on his shoulder, followed by the weight of her head. He could smell her shampoo; a fruit of some sort, and the smell of the sun. He hoped that the bus driver would slow down just so she wouldn't bump into his shoulder and wake up, or arrive at their destination so soon, because either situation would mean having to leave her side quickly.

Minjae had opened her eyes. Chan took a deep breath.

"There's no answer to that question."

Chan offers her a questioning look.

"No, I was reciting the lines from our next play." he made it clear to her, making sure that she was not misunderstanding anything. "Read the next line of the script, Minjae."

"There really is no answer to that question." Minjae said, this time a little seriously. She points at the papers from the copy Chan was holding, words neatly typed in script form. "Look at the next page. It's not there."

Chan almost thought she was lying, until he flipped the paper to see for himself.

"Huh, you're right," Chan is a little dumbfounded at the mistake their scriptwriter had done. since Wonwoo was usually very meticulous with what he wrote and would never let a single typo be permanently etched into the paper of the booklets they printed. "There really is none."

"I told you so." Minjae sing-songed. Chan caught a glimpse of her eyelids that seem to slowly droop once again. "Objectively speaking though, I don't really think there's an actual answer to that question. Perhaps, even Wonwoo himself found it hard to answer."

"There may not be an actual answer, but everyone has a different one."

"Do you?"

Chan smiled for her not to see. The face may conceal what the heart may feel, but he thinks he is rather weak to hold onto that statement.

"Not telling." he laughs out loud when he feels Minjae's fingers that had pinched his forearm. His laughter died down when her laughter followed suit. She had mentioned something about how her mother had sliced watermelon for them to have while practicing, and Chan doesn't remember what had happened next, because the sight of her who bathed in the sun's rays was so blinding, yet so beautiful. The sunlight was bright, as bright as this girl named Kim Minjae that he loved, but he had never turned away from her, nor the sun, despite the way they both blinded his eyes from staring too long.

You are the answer; my sunshine.