under dim streetlights on a misty autumn night, you sat beside sunoo on a wooden bench by the river. the air was thick with the warmth of cinnamon from a nearby cafe, mingling with the crispness of fallen leaves. sunoo leaned back, his gaze lost somewhere in the swirling water below, his profile softened by the orange glow. the two of you had spent countless nights like this, watching the river, lost in thoughts that only seemed to get louder with each passing second.

“you know,” he started, breaking the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “sometimes, i feel like i’m trying so hard to be what everyone else wants.” his eyes flickered to yours, vulnerable and almost pleading, like he was trying to let you in.

you nodded, understanding that feeling all too well. sunoo was always warm, always smiling, always the light in any room. but under all that brightness was a quiet heaviness, a longing for something he couldn’t quite name. and maybe that’s why you found yourself pulled to him like a magnet, because there was something aching in both of you that only the other seemed to soothe.

he reached for your hand, his touch warm despite the cool night. "i don’t want to keep pretending. not with you.”

you squeezed his hand, feeling the weight of his words settle between you. "then don’t," you whispered back. “i don’t need you to be anything but sunoo.”

his smile was small, almost shy, and his fingers laced tighter with yours. in that moment, it felt like all the uncertainty and longing was worth it. you were his cinnamon girl, the only one he let see beyond the smile, beyond the brightness.

as the night wore on and the scent of cinnamon faded into the wind, you knew you’d hold on to that moment for a long time — this quiet night with sunoo, just as he was, and you, just as you were.