Joon-ho and Min-jae had been best friends since childhood, bound by late-night whispers and stolen moments beneath the maple tree in Min-jae’s backyard. But somewhere along the way, their friendship had turned into something deeper—something unspoken, delicate, and dangerous.
Joon-ho knew he loved Min-jae the night they sat on the rooftop, watching the moon paint silver streaks across the quiet town. Min-jae had been laughing about something silly, but Joon-ho had only been watching him, his heart aching with the weight of words he was too scared to say.
Min-jae left for college first, moving to a city far away. Distance grew between them, not just in miles but in silence. Calls became texts, texts became rare, and then—nothing. Joon-ho told himself it was better this way. Maybe Min-jae had forgotten, maybe he had moved on.
Years later, on a crisp autumn evening, Joon-ho found himself back in town, walking aimlessly. His feet led him to the maple tree, now shedding its golden leaves. He stood there, memories rushing back, until a familiar voice shattered the quiet.
"You still come here too, huh?"
Joon-ho turned. Min-jae stood there, a little taller, a little older, but his eyes—the ones Joon-ho had dreamed about for years—were the same.
"I never stopped," Joon-ho admitted softly.
Min-jae smiled, stepping closer. "Neither did I."
The distance between them disappeared. Under the same maple tree where they once whispered secrets, Min-jae reached for Joon-ho’s hand. And this time, neither of them let go.
