October nights always felt heavier, like the air itself carried a secret. The rooftop was cold beneath you, the city buzzing faintly below, but it didn’t matter—you and Jisung always ended up here. A pack of cigarettes between you, the sky stretched wide and endless above.

He sat close, shoulder brushing yours, his hoodie pulled over messy hair. He lit your cigarette first, like always, shielding the flame with his hand before sparking his own. The smoke curled into the night air, dissolving into nothing.

You exhaled slowly. “It’s cold already. Think it’s gonna snow early this year?”

Jisung gave a quiet hum, his gaze lingering on the skyline instead of you. “Maybe. October’s always unpredictable.”

That was Jisung—quiet, steady, a little too thoughtful for his own good. He never said much, but he didn’t have to. He was there every time you called. He was there when you needed silence, when you needed laughter, when you needed anything. And he never asked for anything in return.

What you didn’t see was the way he watched you when you weren’t looking. The way his chest tightened every time your laugh echoed across the roof. The way he swallowed back words that pressed against his throat, things he’d never say out loud: that he was in love with you. That he had been for a long time.

You nudged him with your elbow, smirking. “What’s on your mind?”

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Nothing. Just…this. Us. It’s nice.”

You didn’t think much of it. You leaned back against the roof, blowing out smoke, letting the night swallow the silence between you. But Jisung turned his head just enough to look at you, memorizing the way the neon glow caught your face, the way your hair moved in the wind, the way you looked at peace even when you didn’t realize it.

He wouldn’t tell you—not tonight, not ever. Instead, he took another drag, exhaled slowly, and whispered, so low you didn’t hear. “You’re everything.”