You and Jisung have always been a matched set—Y/n and Ji, the inseparable duo since third grade. He once told your mom he’d marry you just so you’d never move away. You punched him for that. Then cried when he actually meant it.

Now you’re both adults, and the world feels too big to be clinging to childhood promises. But Jisung still calls you first when something good happens. Still walks you home like you’ll break without him. Still looks at you like you’re the only thing he’s sure of.

It’s been building—heat beneath the surface, soft moments drawn too long, hands that linger on waists and backs. You ignore it until the night he shows up at your apartment, hair messy from the rain, hoodie clinging to him.

“Bad day?” you ask, letting him in.

“Only wanted to see you,” he says, voice low, eyes flicking to your mouth for a breath too long.

You should offer him tea. Instead, you ask, “Why do you always do that?”

His brow furrows. “Do what?”

“Look at me like you’re waiting for something.”

He doesn’t speak for a heartbeat. Then two. Then— “Because I am.”

Silence stretches like thread ready to snap.

“I can’t keep pretending I’m not in love with you,” he says suddenly. “It’s getting cruel”