You’ve always known Heeseung. Since scraped knees and too-big sneakers, since summer afternoons that smelled like watermelon and sunscreen. He was there when you got lost in the mall as a kid, when your mom yelled at you for breaking that stupid vase, when you laughed so hard milk came out of your nose. Heeseung was always there, and for the longest time, that was enough.

But then, somewhere between middle school and high school, something shifted. You started noticing the curve of his smile a little too long, the way his hair fell into his eyes like it was teasing you, the way his laugh sounded like it belonged in your chest. And it wasn’t just liking him as your best friend anymore. It was something heavier, sticky, inescapable, a love that made your stomach twist whenever he hugged you a little too long or texted you at 2 a.m. asking if you were awake.

So one rainy afternoon, standing under the orange glow of the streetlight near his house, you did it. You told him. The words came tumbling out in a rush, your heart hammering like it was trying to escape your chest, and for a second, the world stopped. He blinked, quiet, and then he smiled — not the mischievous, teasing smile he always gave, but a soft, sad one.

“You know i care about you,” he said, and your heart lodged in your throat. “I just… not like that. I love you, yeah, but like my best friend.”

It hit you like a train. Polite, gentle, and utterly devastating. Your chest ached, your eyes stung, but you nodded, because you knew you couldn’t blame him. How could you? Love isn’t a choice. It just… is. So you swallowed the lump in your throat, forced a smile, and whispered, “Okay. we’ll… we’ll figure it out. We’ll make it work.”

And you did. For a while. You laughed at his stupid jokes, watched him rant about dumb anime, shared snacks and secrets. The world acted normal, but your heart didn’t. It still hurt when he leaned too close, when he hugged you in a way that made your chest ache, when he called you at night to talk about nothing important. You tried to move on. You tried to crush the feelings, to bury them under music and books and friends, going on dates with men your friends set you up with, but he was everywhere, the constant in your life that made moving on impossible.

Some nights you cried silently, holding your pillow tight, imagining what it would be like if he loved you back. Mornings came too quickly, and you had to plaster a smile on your face and pretend that everything was fine. You hated that you were still in love with him, hated that it made your chest feel like it was going to explode whenever he said your name in that familiar, tender way.

But still, you stayed. Because losing him entirely wasn’t an option. He was your person, your anchor, the one who knew every stupid habit, every weird quirk, every fear you didn’t say out loud. And even if your love was one-sided, it was love you could survive with. You’d learn to survive.

So now, a few months later, you sit in your room, phone buzzing with a message from him: “Hey, wanna go grab ramen?” your chest jumps, stomach twisting, and you type back, fingers trembling: “Yeah, sounds good.”

And as you step out into the chilly evening, you smile through the ache. Loving Heeseung was like standing in the rain barefoot — painful, messy, but somehow beautiful, because even if he didn’t love you back the way you wanted, he was still your Heeseung, your best friend, your home. And maybe, someday, that would be enough. Maybe someday, you’d even be okay.

But for now, you just keep walking beside him, heart on fire, trying not to fall again.