Mingyu had been in love with Wonwoo for years.

It was the kind of love that lingered in quiet moments—the way he’d steal glances at Wonwoo when he was lost in a book, the way his heart skipped when their shoulders brushed, the way he always found himself waiting for Wonwoo to catch up, even when they weren’t walking anywhere.

But it was also the kind of love he could never say out loud.

Because Wonwoo was his best friend. And if he ruined that… he didn’t know if he could survive the fallout.

So Mingyu swallowed it down.

He flirted with other people. He pretended his heart didn’t ache when Wonwoo talked about someone he found attractive. He laughed too loud, acted too carefree, convinced himself that as long as they were together, even as just friends, it was enough.

But it wasn’t.

And when Wonwoo started pulling away, Mingyu felt the world tilt beneath him.

It started subtly. Wonwoo stopped showing up to their late-night convenience store runs. He responded to texts slower, smiled less, kept himself buried in books instead of teasing Mingyu like he used to.

It hurt.

But nothing hurt more than the night Mingyu found him at the rooftop of their university dorms, staring at the city lights, looking lost.

“Wonwoo,” Mingyu called, stepping closer. “Are you okay?”

Wonwoo turned, his eyes unreadable. “Yeah.”

Mingyu frowned. “No, you’re not.”

Wonwoo sighed, rubbing his temple. “It’s nothing, Mingyu. You don’t have to—”

“I do,” Mingyu cut in, frustration bubbling. “I always have to, because you matter to me.”

Wonwoo’s fingers tightened around the railing. “…That’s the problem.”

Mingyu stilled. “What?”

Wonwoo finally met his gaze, something raw and painful in his eyes. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel something more than friendship for you.”

Mingyu’s breath caught.

For a moment, time stopped.

Then, just as quickly as Wonwoo had let the words slip, he shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “Forget it.”

Mingyu panicked. “Wonwoo—”

“I have to go,” Wonwoo muttered, brushing past him.

And before Mingyu could find the words to stop him, he was gone.

For years, Mingyu had believed he was the only one suffering in silence.

He never imagined Wonwoo had been, too.

Days passed. Wonwoo avoided him. Mingyu tried texting, calling, even showing up at his dorm, but every attempt was ignored.

He was losing him.

And he wasn’t okay with that.

So when Mingyu found Wonwoo alone in the library late one evening, he didn’t hesitate.

“Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo stiffened, but didn’t look up. “I’m busy.”

“I don’t care.”

Wonwoo sighed, finally meeting his gaze. “Mingyu—”

“No. You don’t get to run away,” Mingyu interrupted, pulling out the chair across from him. “Not when I spent yearshiding my feelings because I thought you didn’t feel the same.”

Wonwoo’s eyes widened. “…What?”

Mingyu exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of the table. “I thought if I ignored it, if I acted like I was fine just being your friend, it wouldn’t hurt as much. But it did. It still does.”

Wonwoo’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

Mingyu swallowed, lowering his voice. “You think I don’t feel the same? Wonwoo, I’ve loved you for years.”

Silence.

Then, so softly Mingyu almost didn’t hear it, Wonwoo whispered, “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

Mingyu let out a breathless laugh. “Why didn’t you?”

Wonwoo finally broke. His shoulders sagged, his fingers loosening from where they’d been gripping his book. “Because I was scared.”

Mingyu reached across the table, hesitantly taking Wonwoo’s hand in his. “Me too.”

Wonwoo stared at their joined hands, something unreadable flickering across his face.

Mingyu held his breath.

Then, slowly—finally—Wonwoo smiled.

It was small, tentative, but it was real.

“Can we stop being idiots now?” Wonwoo murmured.

Mingyu chuckled, intertwining their fingers. “Yeah. I think it’s about time.”

And as Wonwoo squeezed his hand back, Mingyu realized—

This love was never meant to be unspoken.

Not anymore.