From the day you were born, Ji-yong and Seung-hyun had been there. Not just as family friends or passing visitors, but constants—protectors. They’d known you since you were little more than a bundle in a blanket, and over the years they became something more than just “family friends.” To you, they were like older brothers. Sometimes too protective, sometimes teasing, but always there.

Seven years between you might as well have been a lifetime when you were small. They were already teenagers when you were still learning to write your name, and yet, you never felt left behind. They’d let you tag along, sneak you candy behind your parents’ backs, and when you scraped your knees, they were the first to kneel beside you.

By the time you were old enough to stand on your own, their roles never changed. They still looked at you like the little one they had to guard from the world.

And in a way, you liked that.

Then school happened.

That was where you met her. At first, she seemed different—bright, fun, someone who made you laugh between classes and shared snacks with you at lunch. She became important quickly, someone you thought you could trust. So, one day, naturally, you invited her over.

The moment she stepped inside and saw Ji-yong lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone, and Seung-hyun flipping through a book like he was lost in another world—her entire face changed. Shock, then awe, then something sharper, brighter in her eyes.

“These are my brothers,” you introduced simply, your voice casual, proud.

They gave her polite smiles, Ji-yong offering a short nod while Seung-hyun’s deep voice rumbled a quiet: “Nice to meet you.”

That should have been the end of it. But it wasn’t.

From that day on, everything shifted.

Your friend started coming over more often—not to see you, not really. Her eyes lingered too long on Ji-yong whenever he laughed, too much sweetness in her tone when she greeted Seung-hyun. She’d lean just a little too close when she asked them questions, flutter her eyelashes, even play with her hair while pretending to “joke.”

The way she suddenly laughed louder at their comments than yours. The way she dressed up a little more each time she came by. How her eyes sparkled, not when you talked, but when one of them entered the room.

At first, you brushed it off. Maybe you were imagining it. Maybe she was just friendly.

But then there were the glances. The constant flirting that was so painfully obvious you wondered how she thought you couldn’t see it. And the worst part? She wasn’t coming over to spend time with you anymore. She was coming for them.

It stung—sharp, quiet, almost like betrayal. Because while she was supposed to be your friend, your safe place at school.

What she didn’t seem to understand, though, was that Ji-yong and Seung-hyun weren’t fooled. They never encouraged it—never gave her anything but polite smiles, short answers, or the kind of brotherly dismissal that made it clear they weren’t interested.

The quiet glances they exchanged when she tried too hard. The way Ji-yong sometimes shifted closer to you, like a shield, when her attention strayed too far. Or the way Seung-hyun would gently redirect the conversation back to you, almost pointedly, reminding everyone whose home this was.

And though they never said it outright, their eyes always told you the same thing:

“We’ve got you. Don’t worry.”