Jungwon had always been the sweet, dependable best friend—the one who showed up with snacks when you were stressed, who laughed too easily at your bad jokes, who never seemed to think of you as anything more. At least, that’s what you told yourself. But lately, you couldn’t ignore the shift. His gaze lingered a second too long, his touches seemed intentional, heavier. When you were alone, the air between you felt charged in a way it never used to.

One evening, after a long day, you ended up side by side on the couch. The TV played quietly in the background, but neither of you were paying attention. His hand brushed against yours once, casually—so casually you thought it might’ve been an accident. But then, slowly, his fingers slid between yours. He held on, firm enough to make it clear this wasn’t by mistake.

You turned to look at him, but he was already closer than you expected. His breath warmed the side of your face as he whispered, voice steady but low, “I don’t think I can pretend to just be your best friend anymore.”

The words settled heavy in your chest, sending a rush of heat down your spine. The innocence you always associated with him was gone, replaced by a quiet intensity that made it hard to look away.

He squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing over your skin like he couldn’t let go even if he tried. “I’ve been holding this back for too long,” he admitted, eyes locked on yours. “I want to be more than just the person you run to. I want to be the one you stay with...I can make you feel better than anyone else.”