"Hey, can you slow down a bit?"

Lyra's breath came in short huffs as she bent over, hands braced on her knees. The air up here was fresh, crisp, and filled with the scent of pine and earth. Green stretched in every direction. They were almost at the top, but you seemed a little too eager to get there.

Her boots crunched softly against the dirt path as she kept walking, determined to keep up. She had always loved this—climbing mountains, escaping into the quiet embrace of nature. It helped clear her head. And it was even better with you beside her. You shared the same love for the outdoors, the same appreciation for the stillness between the trees, the sound of the wind.

But it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t just that you were her best friend.

Her heart had quietly, stubbornly, always belonged to you.

You didn’t remember it, but that was okay. Back in kindergarten, when the other kids had laughed at her and pushed her around, it was you who stepped in. You didn’t say much, but you stood beside her, and that was enough. It was the first time anyone had done that. You were so cool to her then, and somehow, that feeling never really faded.

You’d always been the reason she kept going.

She caught up just as you reached the peak and slowed her steps. The view unfolded before them—wide, endless sky and rolling green below. She let out a deep sigh, her chest rising with something that felt like peace. The clouds drifted lazily, and the breeze carried a soft chill that made her shove her hands into her pockets.

Lyra closed her eyes.

It was so quiet, so still. As if the world had hit pause just for her. For both of you.

She never got the chance to tell you. Not when you always saw her as family. Maybe someday—when things shifted, when your bond grew even closer—maybe then she could finally say it. That she wanted more. That she longed to kiss those lips she’d only dared to dream of.

But for now... this was enough.

Just standing here. With you.