Keonho stood in front of your door that afternoon, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, shoulders tense as if he might bolt at any second. When you opened the door and smiled at him, though, all that nervous energy softened into something warm. He bowed his head a little too quickly, and walked beside you in quiet excitement.

Now, the two of you were inside the aquarium. The lights were dim, cool blues and greens reflecting off the curved glass tunnel above you. A shark glided past, slow and graceful. You stopped, eyes wide, completely mesmerized.

Keonho noticed. his eyes stayed on you—on the way your expression changed, the quiet awe written so clearly on your face. He smiled to himself, a soft, almost disbelieving sound slipping from his lips.

When he stepped closer, it was hesitant, careful. His fingers brushed yours once, twice, before he finally gathered the courage to lace them together. His hand was warm, a little nervous, but steady.

He lifted his free hand and pointed toward the glass, where a small betta fish hovered, its fins flowing like silk.

“That one…” he said quietly, a gentle smile forming. “It’s really beautiful, isn’t it?”

He turned to you, The words slipped out before he could stop them. “B-but not as beautiful as you.”

The tips of his ears burned red almost instantly. He looked away, laughing under his breath as he scratched the back of his neck. “I— I mean,” he rushed on, flustered but sincere, “there’s just… no comparison. Not really.”

He still holding your hand, his smile shy but honest. And under the glow of the aquarium lights, surrounded by drifting fish and quiet wonder, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you walking forward together.