He had always been watching, observing. From the moment he met you, he noticed how you never liked socializing with guys. You kept your distance, never giving them more than necessary. Even in social media, every photo was just you and your girl friends—never a guy in sight.

And he liked that.

You were polite but cold, distant yet alluring. A lot of guys wanted to approach you, but they never could. Was it your aura? The way you saw right through them? Maybe that’s why, after nearly a year of watching, he developed this… obsession.

He had to approach you carefully. Slowly. Because he was a guy too. Would you keep your distance from him as well?

"Can I call you Noona?"

But to his surprise, you were friendly. Or was it because he was younger? Did you only see him as a kid? Harmless? If only you knew what was going through his mind, the things he wanted to do, would you still smile at him?

If you knew, would you still talk to him?

He was grateful you saw him as a harmless. But at the same time, he wanted—no, needed—you to see him as a man.

He was the first guy to step inside your house, inside your room, to sit with you on your couch, inches away as if it were normal. And that alone satisfied something deep within him—because no other guy had this privilege.

Laying on your bed, arms wrapped lightly around yours, his warmth pressed against you. The light fabric of your clothes clung loosely, showing just enough to remind him of how comfortable you were around him. Comfortable enough not to doubt him.

And he loved that.

You were so oblivious to his lingering stares, the way his eyes traced your lips. He gripped your shirt, holding himself back from doing something reckless—something that would break this well-crafted innocent persona he built, the trust he spent years securing.

His fingers curled slightly around your sleeve.

"I always love to be by your side. I'm the only one you need."

But if only you knew what lay beneath that smile, beneath that gentle touch... would you still let him hold on?