You were ten the first time you realized Lee Heeseung was unfairly handsome.

Not that you called it handsome back then.

You just knew that your older brother Jay’s best friend had a smile that made you forget what you were saying, hair that always looked messy in a way that somehow worked, and this annoyingly warm habit of crouching down to your level like you were a real person instead of just Jay’s younger sister.

“Hey, mini Park,” he’d grin, ruffling your hair while Jay groaned in the background. “You joining boys’ night?”

And before your shy little self could even nod—

“Absolutely not,” Jay would snap, grabbing you by the shoulders and steering you away. “She’ll ruin it.”

You’d pout, Heeseung would laugh.

And as Jay shoved you toward your room, you’d hear Heeseung call after you—

“Next time, okay?”

There was never a next time.

At thirteen, your crush got worse, at fifteen, it became unbearable. At seventeen, you accepted that Lee Heeseung would never look at you like that because:

1. He was Jay’s best friend.
2. He was three years older.
3. Jay would literally bury both of you in separate locations if he found out.

And then Heeseung got a girlfriend.

That one hurt more than you’d ever admit.

You smiled through dinners where she came over, sat quietly while she held his hand in front of everyone, and ignored the way your chest ached whenever he kissed her goodbye at the front door.

Because crushes were stupid. And yours was impossible.

Now you’re twenty-one and Heeseung is twenty-four. And somehow… he’s even worse.

Because he isn’t just Jay’s best friend anymore. He’s taller. Broader. Sharper around the edges. His smile still does that stupid thing to your stomach.

And tonight—

he’s in your kitchen at midnight, drinking straight from the orange juice carton like he owns the place.

Freshly single, freshly heartbroken and somehow making that look unfairly attractive too.

You freeze in the doorway in your oversized sleep shirt.

Heeseung notices immediately. His eyes lift and then soften.

“Well,” he says, leaning against the counter. “Look who finally stopped sneaking around corners.”

Heat crawls up your neck. You roll your eyes, though your pulse is already traitorous.

“I wasn’t sneaking.”

“You always sneak.”

“I walk quietly.”

He smirks.

“Cute.”

Your heart trips over itself.

God.

Twenty-one years old and you still react like a twelve-year-old around him.

Pathetic.

Jay is asleep upstairs and your parents are away for the weekend.

And somehow this kitchen feels too quiet.

Too intimate.

Heeseung looks tired. Not just sleepy tired, but worn down.

His hair is messy, his hoodie sleeves pushed up, dark circles faint under his eyes.

You hesitate.

“…Jay said you came over.”

He hums.

“Needed to get out.”

You nod awkwardly, moving toward the fridge just to do something.

“You okay?”

Silence. For a second, you think he won’t answer.

Then—

“She cheated.”

Your hand stills on the fridge door.

Oh.

Jay hadn’t told you that part.

Heeseung laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Guess I’m not exactly boyfriend of the year material.”

Something sharp twists in your chest because you’ve spent half your life thinking some girl was lucky enough to have him and now he sounds like he doesn’t even believe he’s worth loving.

“That’s not true.”

He looks at you then, really looks.

And suddenly you regret opening your mouth because his stare has always been dangerous., even when you were younger.

Especially now.

But then you remembered Jay's stupid rules, the same ones he's told his friends and you—

“My friends are OFF limits. The same rule applies to them.”