As his gaze meets yours, his lips curl into a smile, accompanied by a soft sigh. You've always seemed too good for him, he muses, contrasting his own cold demeanor with your warmth and enthusiasm. "You'll make some guy really happy one day," he remarks, prompting a strange sensation in your stomach.

Your brows furrow as you question him, "What about you? Don't I make you happy?" His response is gentle, reassuring, yet it leaves you with a pang of disappointment. "Of course you make me happy," he murmurs, igniting a warmth in your chest, "You're my best friend."

But your smile falters. Is that all he sees you as—a friend?