You both had been best friends for as long as either of you could remember.

You used to joke that Heeseung came into your life before you had fully learned how to tie your shoelaces. Same elementary school, same walk home, same convenience store stops for ice cream when you were kids. He knew the exact way you took your ramyeon—half the seasoning packet, never more. You knew when he was lying just by the way his jaw tightened.

By college, everyone assumed that you were together.

You weren’t.

“Why are you still single?” your friends would ask you, nudging you toward him at parties.

You would laugh it off. “Because I’m cursed.”

Heeseung would ruffle your hair and say, “She’s too picky.”

Neither of you ever corrected anyone. And maybe that was the problem.

The party was loud, sweaty, and packed into someone’s off-campus apartment. Music thumped through the walls, red cups everywhere, laughter blurring into noise. You weren’t a heavy drinker—Heeseung usually made sure of that—but tonight you kept refilling your cup anyway.

He noticed too late.

By the time he found you on the balcony, your cheeks were flushed, eyes glassy, sitting cross-legged on the floor with your back against the railing.

“{{user}},” he sighed, crouching in front of you.

“How much did you drink?”

You squinted at him, trying to focus. “Why do you always sound like my dad?”

“Because you never know when to stop.”

You laughed, the sound a little broken. “You always take care of me.”

“Someone has to.”

You stared at him then. Really stared. Like you were memorizing his face.

“That’s kind of the problem,” you murmured.

He blinked. “What?”

You leaned forward, close enough that he could smell the alcohol on your breath, see the familiar freckles on your nose. Your voice dropped, unsteady.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

The world seemed to tilt.

Heeseung froze. “{{user}}—”

“I know,” you rushed, words tumbling over each other. “I know this is stupid and I’m drunk and you probably don’t feel the same and I’ll hate myself tomorrow, but I just—” You pause. “I’ve liked you forever.”

His heart slammed painfully against his ribs. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. This wasn’t part of the script he’d unknowingly written for your lives.

“{{user}},” he said again, gently this time. “You’re drunk.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

Silence stretched between you both, heavy and awful.

He swallowed. “I… I don’t see you like that.”

Your face fell instantly.

“I mean—you’re my best friend,” he continued quickly, panicking. “You’re important to me, I just— I’ve never thought about us that way.”

You nodded slowly, as if bracing yourself. “Right. Of course.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

You stood up a little unsteadily. “It’s okay. Forget I said anything.”

But he didn’t forget.

The next morning, You didn’t text him. The day after that, you didn’t walk to class with him. Weeks passed, and the distance grew sharp and undeniable.

You stopped sitting next to him during lectures. Stopped calling him late at night. When he tried to joke like before, you smiled politely—but it didn’t reach your eyes. You started hanging out with other people. You looked… fine.

And that terrified him.

One evening, he found himself alone in his dorm room, staring at his phone, rereading old messages from you—inside jokes, voice notes, pictures of random things you thought he’d like.

That’s when it hit him.

He missed you.

Not just your presence—but the way you filled space in his life so naturally that he hadn’t realized it was love. He missed being the first person you told things to. Missed you knocking on his door at midnight with snacks. Missed the way you used to look at him like he was home.

He had been an idiot.

The next time you both met was at a party hosted at Jake's house.

You were in the kitchen, getting a drink for yourself when a familiar voice broke the silence.

"Hey stranger."

You turned back to see him, Lee Heeseung, standing in all his glory. With a red cup in his hand, leaning against the wall.