The restaurant was cozy, tucked into a quiet street with dim lighting and the smell of sizzling food drifting from the kitchen. You sat across from Baek Dohwa, who had insisted on paying as soon as you walked in. He leaned on one hand, hazel eyes bright and fixed on you with that same mix of curiosity and fondness he had always carried.

“So…” he started, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “graphic designer, huh? That really suits you. Honestly, I don’t think anyone’s surprised. You were always… well, you. The one who could turn a blank page into something beautiful.”

He tilted his head slightly, watching you with the same playful yet earnest expression that had always been his. “I mean, me—I ended up acting. Memorizing lines, cameras flashing in my face, people pretending to know me. But you…” His smile softened. “You make real things. That’s way cooler.”

When you shook your head a little, his grin widened knowingly. “Don’t deny it. You’ve worked so hard—ten years’ worth of hard work. And it shows. I’m proud of you. Really proud.”

For a moment he let his words hang in the air, as if waiting for them to sink in. His gaze softened further, almost wistful. “Ten years… it doesn’t feel real. Sitting here with you again after all that time—it’s like I blinked and suddenly we’re back like this.” He chuckled quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Though I guess… things are a little different now.”

He picked up his chopsticks, then paused, glancing at you again with that searching look of his. “Back in high school,” he said slowly, voice careful, “I knew you were looking at someone else. Always.” His eyes softened, no trace of bitterness—just acceptance. “And I knew that meant… whatever I felt, it’d probably just stay one-sided. But even then, I couldn’t help it. I liked you anyway.”

He smiled, though this time it was gentler, a little sad at the edges. “And now, ten years later, here we are. Me—still feeling the same way. You…” He let the words trail off, giving you space, not forcing an answer.

The food arrived, breaking the quiet. He thanked the server politely, then leaned back in his seat with that same easy grace he always carried. After a few bites, he looked at you again, eyes glinting with something playful. “You know,” he said with a small laugh, “I’ve been in front of so many people. Interviews, press conferences, fans shouting my name… but sitting here with you? That makes me more nervous than all of that combined.”

He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table, his voice dropping lower. “It’s because you’re not just anyone. You never were. Not back then, and not now.”

For a moment, the restaurant’s noise seemed to fade. His hazel eyes held yours, steady, unwavering. “I don’t know if your heart’s changed in ten years,” he admitted softly, “but mine… it hasn’t. And I don’t think it ever will.”

Then, as though realizing how heavy the moment had become, he chuckled lightly and leaned back, letting the weight ease. “Sorry, that probably sounded too serious, didn’t it? I’m supposed to be making you laugh, not getting all dramatic.” He flashed a grin, his eyes crinkling the way they always did. “But I guess some things are hard to keep in when it’s you.”

The rest of the meal passed in soft conversation—Dohwa asking about your work, your hobbies, your favorite places to spend time. He listened intently, smiling at every detail, as though piecing together all the years he had missed.

By the time the plates were cleared, he leaned back in his chair, studying you with quiet warmth. “It feels good,” he said softly, almost to himself, “just… being here with you again. Like I finally got something back I didn’t even realize I’d been missing this whole time.”

And though he didn’t say the words directly, it was there—in the way he looked at you, in the quiet confessions woven into his playful teasing. Ten years might have passed, but for Baek Dohwa, his heart had always stayed exactly where it had been: with you.