Your high school years were painfully awkward—glasses too big for your face, braces that caught the light in every bad photo, and embarrassingly unable to ride a bike without wobbling into someone’s lawn. Your world was small. You hung out with exactly four people: your older brother Jay, his best friend Jungwon, Jungwon’s brother Sangwon, and your best friend Paige. That was it. No dramatic friend groups, no wild parties—just them.

Somewhere along the way, you developed the biggest crush on Jungwon.

It wasn’t loud or obvious. It was quiet. The way he carried himself so effortlessly, like nothing ever rattled him. The way he’d listen when you talked, actually listen, like your awkward rambles were worth hearing. He was considerate in ways that made your chest feel tight, attentive in ways that made your heart flutter every time you caught him looking at you.

You remembered the summer afternoons when Jay and Sangwon would race off on their bikes, disappearing down the street in a blur of laughter. Jungwon would always linger behind.

“Jungwon, hurry up,” they would call.

“I’ll catch up,” he would reply.

But he never did—not right away. He stayed with you.

He held the back of your bike seat steady while you tried to balance on two wheels for the first time. He jogged beside you, breathless but patient, telling you not to look down.

“Just keep your eyes forward. I’ve got you.”

And when you finally managed to ride without falling, he was the first one cheering.

You never once believed he could feel the same way. He was two years older, busy, already stepping into bigger things while you were still tripping over your own shoelaces. You weren’t exactly confident material either—too anxious, too clumsy, too full of embarrassing moments to think you stood a chance.

Then summer came again, but everything felt different.

Jungwon was in his third year of college now, and you were just starting yours. You and your mom drove down to the old beach house—the one everyone always gathered at when the weather turned warm. Jay and Sangwon were already there, talking loudly about campus life and dorm drama.

Jungwon, though, was nowhere in sight.

You stepped out of the car, brushing your hands down your outfit, trying not to feel out of place. College had changed you. The braces were gone. The glasses had been swapped for contacts. You’d grown into yourself in ways you hadn’t noticed until now.

That’s when the front door opened.

Jungwon stepped out—and froze.

The reaction on his face was priceless. Genuine surprise flickered across his features, followed by something softer. Something unreadable.

Jay and Sangwon headed inside, still mid-conversation, leaving you standing by the car with your suitcase.

Jungwon walked toward you slowly, like he was trying to process something. His eyes traced your face carefully, almost disbelieving.

Without a word, he reached up and adjusted the sunglasses perched on your head, sliding them down into your hand instead.

“I liked you better with glasses,” he said softly.

Not teasing. Not mocking. Just honest.

He picked up your luggage before you could protest and carried it inside, setting it down gently by the sofa like it was something fragile.

And for the first time, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—you hadn’t been the only one feeling something all those years ago.