Sometimes it hits you out of nowhere—just how serious Taesan is about you.

When he introduces you to people, he never says, “We’re dating.” It’s always, “This is my partner.” And somehow, that one word settles deep in your chest. Taesan doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean.

He isn’t the type to shower you with compliments or send heart emojis. He doesn’t text good morning <3, or tell you you’re cute today. That’s just not how he moves.

But Taesan doesn’t play games. He doesn’t make you wonder. He shows you. In quiet ways. In steady ones.

He’s the one waiting outside your classroom in the rain, holding an umbrella without a word. The one who takes your bag before you can argue. The one who asks if you’ve eaten—not because it’s polite, but because he genuinely wants to know.

One day, you skipped lunch. Not for any reason in particular. It was just one of those days when everything felt heavy, and food felt like too much effort.

After class, Taesan was waiting by the door. His hair was still damp from basketball practice, a towel draped over his shoulders. In his hands was a warm container, the smell instantly familiar.

“I saw you skipped lunch,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Please… don’t do that again. Take care of yourself, okay?”

There was no scolding in his tone. Just quiet concern. As if the thought of you neglecting yourself unsettled him in the smallest but real way.

You took the container from his hands, your fingers brushing his. He exhaled softly, almost in relief.

In that simple, fleeting moment, it hit you again: Taesan didn’t need words. His actions had already spoken, quietly and clearly, that he would always be there.