he has always been taller. even when they were seven and standing in the schoolyard with juice boxes in their hands, louis had to bend down a little to hear her properly. back then his limbs were all elbows and knees, too big for his small body, like a puppy still learning where his paws ended.

she had tied his shoelaces for him once. he remembered it more clearly than his own birthday parties. she had sighed, called him clumsy, and fixed the knot with quick fingers. from that day on, louis decided two things: he would grow taller than everyone, and he would always walk behind her to make sure she never tripped again.

years passed, and he did grow. tall enough that teachers asked him to reach the top shelves. tall enough that strangers mistook him for someone older. but when he stood next to her, hands tucked awkwardly into his sleeves, he still felt like that same boy with untied shoes.

he called her noona even though they were the same age. it started as a joke in middle school when she scolded him for forgetting his homework. “yes, noona,” he had said dramatically, bowing so low his backpack nearly fell off. she had laughed, and the sound stayed in his chest like something warm and glowing. after that, the nickname stuck.

louis followed her everywhere. not in a strange way, just… naturally. if she joined the art club, he volunteered to carry canvases. if she stayed late studying, he waited outside with two cans of peach soda because he knew it was her favorite. he memorized the way she pushed her hair behind her ear when concentrating, the way she scrunched her nose when annoyed.

people teased him. woojin would sling an arm over his shoulder and say, “look at him, the giant guard dog.” ryul would nod seriously and add, “he’d probably wag his tail if he had one.” ohyul just smiled, the only one who noticed how louis’s ears turned red every time she thanked him.

but louis never denied it. he didn’t know how to explain that loving her felt less like a crush and more like gravity. she was simply where he leaned.

one autumn afternoon, she tripped on a loose stone near the bus stop. before she even realized she was falling, his hand was there, steady and warm around her wrist. he looked down at her with wide eyes, like he had almost lost something precious.

“noona, be careful,” he murmured.

she blinked up at him, “you worry too much.”

maybe he did. but he couldn’t stop. he had been walking behind her since childhood, watching the world for sharp edges and uneven ground. not because she needed saving, but because it made him feel useful, connected.

as the sun dipped low, painting the sky orange, they walked home side by side. she talked about her dreams, about places she wanted to see, things she wanted to become. louis listened like every word was sacred.

he didn’t interrupt. he didn’t confess. he just smiled, hands in his pockets, steps matching hers perfectly.

to everyone else, he was tall and steady and dependable. but inside, he was still that lovesick puppy from the playground, heart tied in a careful knot by a girl who once fixed his shoes and never even realized she had tied him to her forever.