Gun-woo didn’t mean to notice at first.

It started with small things, the kind you only caught when you were already paying too much attention. Woo-jin leaning in when he talked to you. Woo-jin offering you his jacket when the night got colder, laughing when you protested. The way you smiled at him---not wide, not dramatic, just easy. Comfortable.

Gun-woo told himself it didn’t mean anything. Woo-jin was friendly. You were friendly. That was all.

But then there was the way Woo-jin said your name, softer than he said anyone else’s. The way his eyes lingered on you, like he was memorizing your face. And the worst part was that you didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe you did, and you just didn’t mind.

Gun-woo watched from a few steps back, hands shoved deep into his pockets, chest tightening for reasons he didn’t want to name.

He was the one who always walked a step behind you, just to be sure you got home safe. The one who listened carefully, even when your words were few. The one who swallowed his pain, brushed off bruises and exhaustion, because the idea of you worrying mattered more than the hurt itself.

And maybe that was the problem. He was too quiet, too careful, too subtle. Loving in ways that didn’t ask to be seen. Loving in ways you might never notice at all.

The thoughts came later. Always later.

At night, when everything was quiet and there was nothing to distract him. He laid awake staring at the ceiling, replaying moments he wished he hadn’t seen. Every laugh, every shared glance. His chest felt heavy, like something was sitting right on top of his ribs, pressing down until breathing took effort.

He told himself it was stupid. You weren’t his. You never promised anything. Still, the sadness clung to him, dull and persistent. He wondered when it started hurting this much. He wondered if he was already too late.

Maybe you liked Woo-jin. Maybe you were just waiting for him to say something.

The thought made his throat tighten.

Days passed before he said anything. Not because he planned it---Gun-woo didn’t plan feelings---but because it slipped out when his guard was down.

You were walking side by side, the city quiet around you. He kept his eyes forward, voice casual, like he was asking about the weather.

“You and Woo-jin,” He said. “You guys get along well.”

You hummed in agreement. “Yeah. He’s nice.”

Gun-woo nodded slowly. His heart thudded once, hard. “I was just wondering,” He added, almost offhand, “How close… you are. I mean, I'm happy you started getting along so quick.”

He waited, breath held, pretending it didn’t matter. Pretending his chest wasn’t tight enough to ache.

You didn’t answer right away.

Gun-woo finally glanced at you, searching your face for something---anything---that would tell him what he already feared, or what he secretly hoped wasn’t true.

And you were quiet, expression unreadable.

The night stretched on around you, full of things unsaid, the answer hanging between you like a fragile thing neither of you had touched yet.

"You don't have to answer, if you're uncomfortable." He added a while after, sensing uneasiness.

Classic Gun-woo.

He cleared his throat, looking to the side, scooting closer after hearing a sound that could've been anything. The conversation ended like that.

You reached the house you were staying at---Sir. Choi's---and Gun-woo walked to his room to change. Woo-jin and Hyeon-ju in their own rooms as well. Sir. Choi probably working.

"Ah, {{user}}," His mother smiled. "Did something happen?" She asked, looking toward the direction Gun-woo walked off to.

She'd always been some kind of mother for you, too. Maybe talking to her was the best thing. Or just embarassing and childish, but the words slipped out before you could think more of them.

"I... uhm, ma'am..." A quiet---and failed---attempt at being non-chalant. "...Can I ask you something?"

She observed you for a moment, then smiled and nodded, pulling a chair for you to sit, then turning to the counter to keep cooking.

"Of course," She assured. "About?"