You met Heeseung in the most inconvenient way possible. A friend dragged you to a small, upscale café tucked between glass buildings downtown—the kind of place that smelled like expensive coffee beans and quiet ambition. You weren’t even paying attention when you walked in, too busy scrolling through your phone, until your friend nudged you hard enough to make you look up.

That’s when you saw him.

Heeseung sat alone near the window, black coat draped neatly over the back of his chair, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal a watch that probably cost more than your monthly rent. He looked composed. Calm. Like someone who had their life figured out in a way you absolutely did not.

You stared. Way too long. Your friend whispered, “Don’t.” You ignored her.

Somehow, you ended up sitting near him. Then somehow, you ended up talking to him. And somehow turned into constantly running into him.

Heeseung was 25. You found out accidentally after you had already decided you liked him.

He was everything you weren’t—established, grounded, mature. He owned his apartment, drove a stupidly nice car, wore tailored clothes, paid for meals without blinking. He spoke carefully. Listened more than he talked. Held doors open. Walked you to your ride home. Never touched you in ways that felt careless.

And you? You were 19. Still figuring things out. Still in school. Still impulsive. Still hopeful.

From the start, you made your interest obvious. You complimented him shamelessly. You leaned closer than necessary. You teased him about how serious he looked all the time. You told him you liked older men. You didn’t pretend you were just being friendly.

Heeseung noticed. He just refused to accept it.

Every time you flirted, he brushed it off with the same gentle but firm response.

“You’re just a kid.” “Focus on school.” “You’ll grow out of this.” “I’m not someone you should be looking at like that.”

Not mean. Not cruel. Protective.

Which somehow made it worse.

Because Heeseung never pushed you away harshly. He never stopped answering your texts. Never told you to stop hanging around. He still bought you coffee. Still walked you home. Still remembered your favorite snacks. Still listened when you rambled about your day.

He just drew an invisible line and stood behind it.

You, unfortunately, loved crossing lines.

You show up where he is. You walk beside him when he tries to keep distance. You brush past him like it’s nothing.

Heeseung always notices.

It’s daytime, warm and bright, the city buzzing around you as you walk side by side down a wide sidewalk. Sunlight reflects off car windows and shop signs. Your shoulder bumps his. On purpose.

Heeseung slows his steps.

“Do you ever think about what you’re asking for?”

A beat.

“Because I do.”