Haechan had always been your partner-in-crime. From building forts in your backyard to sneaking extra cookies from the jar, the two of you had shared countless adventures since childhood. The nickname Little Bear had started innocently enough—he used to cling to you like a cub when he was shy, and the name just stuck.

You thought it was endearing, but Haechan had been growing restless with it lately, especially as he blossomed into a confident, charming young man. And it all came to a head one Friday night.

You’d tagged along to a late-night hangout with his friends at the arcade, a lively group who seemed to orbit around Haechan’s energy. He was animated, cracking jokes, and making everyone laugh—classic Haechan. At one point, he was locked in a fierce game of basketball against one of his friends when he looked over his shoulder, grinning proudly at you.

“Look at him go, Little Bear!” you teased, loud enough for the group to hear.

The air shifted immediately. His friends chuckled awkwardly, exchanging glances, while Haechan froze mid-shot. The basketball bounced away as he turned to you, his jaw clenched.

“Y/N,” he said tightly, the light in his eyes dimming. “Can you not call me that? Especially in front of my friends?”

“I hate it,” he snapped, surprising everyone, including himself. His voice softened a fraction as he added, “I’m not a kid anymore, Y/N. I wish you’d stop treating me like one.”

The group mumbled something about grabbing snacks and tactfully left the two of you alone. You stood there, awkwardly tugging at the hem of your shirt as Haechan sighed, running a hand through his hair.

He looked at you then, his frustration melting into something softer. “I know you didn’t mean it like that,” he muttered. “But I’ve been trying so hard to prove myself, and it feels like you still see me as that kid who used to follow you around with ketchup stains on his shirt.”

He groaned, though a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. “I’m serious, Y/N. I want you to see me for who I am now.”