[cosmiho]

NAVIGATION

I care for you still and I will forever

☆ ELI — REC BLOG

eighteen ⟡ british ⟡ she/her ⟡ keonho ult

requests :: OPEN

MASTERLIST | RULES | PLAYLIST | UPCOMING

── TAGLIST ⋆.˚

If you could see my thoughts you would see your face

cosmiho © 2026 ⟡ no plagiarism

[cosmiho]

Scream inspired CORTIS fic???

[cosmiho]

Yh my dumbass thought it'd be a good idea to choose bio and media so I was expecting a clash but I DEFINITELY underestimated how mentally exhausting one a level exam is I literally can't function after one let alone revise a whole paper after doing 2 💀 and our psych paper was HORRIBLE OMG we had a 16 marker on social sensitivity (didn't know that could be a 16 marker ?? 🫩) and a 16 marker in forensics on differential association theory bro I kid u not when I saw that 16 marker I looked at the invigilator like they'd have the answer on their faces bc for the life of me I couldn't remember the AO1 so I had to make shit up 💔

I can't believe how much they've stretched politics omg they're just stringing u guys along atp that's so evil bro 😭also idk what exam board u do for pol but i saw TikTok's of ppl stressing out over stamer possibly resigning right before paper 2 (?) and i didn't know things like that could affect ur essays in pol what 😭

I cannot wait to leave my wretched exam hall for the final time it's gonna be so freeing (until I see my results in August 💀) and I hope ur expecting to see a message from me in ur inbox by the time ur politics exam ends celebrating our freedom pooks 😍

you’ve got such a random combo 😭 bio media and psych is crazy

WE HAD A SOCIAL SENSITIVITY 15 MARKER, that one kinda fried my ahh looking back cuz i had to yap abt the social sensitivity on the impact of advertisements on children, lowkey cooked on my other child questions tho so it doesn’t matter. i kept making eye contact with this random ahh invigilator as well i think he could tell i was over it 💀

i’m acc gonna have to talk to the person in charge of making the exam timetables cuz they’re actually dragging it atp. also yeah if starmer resigns that fucks up my essays so bad 🫩 my paper is uk and us politics so if i’m yapping abt the PM being stronger against opposition than the president i can’t use starmer as an example if he resigns cuz he failed against his own party’s opposition 💔 he’s just gotta last until tomorrow afternoon and then i’m all good. politics is honestly crazy cuz you need to have up to date examples for your essays so basically the majority of examples i learnt in year 12 are useless now 🤦‍♀️ i don’t even have the right to complain tho bc i’m planning on doing it at uni so i’m basically forcing myself through more on this bs 💀

THE WEATHER LOOKS SO GOOD ON OUR LAST EXAM DAY 🥹 imma get home and just sunbathe i can’t even lie, might even go down to the pub i genuinely won’t even care if i did good on the exam or not. Don’t even mention results day man i’m pretending it doesn’t exist rn 😭 trust me i WILL be celebrating our freedom from this hellhole 🥳

[cosmiho]

Ive been so busy revising but yesterday i literally decided I've had enough after my exam clash cuz I was isolated all day and had no one to talk to so my brain was GENUIENLY fried so I highkey just winged psych paper 3 icl 😭

Ur so real for not caring how u did bro I tanked 3/4 of the topics but I literally don't care anymore psych a level is pure HELL

YESS WE FINISH ON THE SAME DAY I finish in the morning tho which is crazy cuz I'm doing stem and they always tend to be at the end but I'm somehow finishing before u?? WE CAN GET THRU THIS SO CLOSE YET SO FAR PRAYING FOR OUR GRADES AND GOOD PUCK TO US

YOU HAD A CLASH?! bless you omg i could never do that i’ve gotten lucky not having a clash or even a double cuz i genuinely think that would be my last straw. i don’t even blame you for winging psych bc i would have done the same, i’ve seen ppl saying your paper was horror as well 😭

politics genuinely so annoying man they spread out each paper so much why am i literally the last person to finish 😭 i’ve only got 2 papers left so life could be worse, we just gotta make it until june 16th and then we’re free 🥹

i’m actually gonna leg it out of the exam hall with the widest smile on my face omg i’m getting butterflies at the thought of it x

[cosmiho]

heyyyyy fellow a level survivor

PSYCHOLOGY IS DONE !!!! IM SO HAPPY OMG

it was an awful paper tho… i got cooked

AND HISTORY? me when war of the roses appears on my war of the roses paper:

anyways i only have one exam left next wednesday

i am a fighter and not a quitter !! (said liz truss)

get me out of this hell hole 💔

nah my history paper was horror as well, the essay questions were alright but the sources had me on the brink of walking out omds how tf am i supposed to write 30 marks about northern Ireland when they gave us a 2 YEAR time period omdssssss

i don’t even know how psych went i was literally just watching the clock tick down until i never had to think about that god forsaken subject ever again i genuinely hated it so much

say what? you finish wednesday 🫩 everyone and their mum finishes next week except for me man i’m getting fomo 💔 guys take me with you i’ve still got an extra week 😭 (also you helping with my politics revision fr)

this exam season has actually been the longest month of my life i needed it to be over a week ago 💀 x

[cosmiho]

HII dk if u remember me but fellow a level psych survivor here WE'RE FINALLY FUCKING FREEEEEE OMGGG 😭😭😭 only have bio left now for 2 weeks then I can finally DO NOTHINGGG (without guilt that is I've done nothing regardless 😅)

OMG HIIII i was wondering how you were doing 😭

i honestly can’t tell you how happy i was to finish psychology i was literally frolicking in the fields with the fattest smile on my face afterwards i literally didn’t even care how the exam went 💀 psych has genuinely made me lose the will to live the past 2 years i’d already had enough by the end of year 12 💔

honestly so real now that i only have 1 subject left i’m chilling 😛 i should probably be revising for my next paper cuz it’s on wednesday but do i want to…? absolutely not. i think we finish on the same day too (june 16th, but my exam is in the afternoon 💔)! a levels stay dragging cuz why are we some of the last ppl to finish? 🫩

can’t wait for this shitshow to be over because i’m done 😭 x

[cosmiho]

Chat I was curious

what is the Difference between aqa ccea edexcel eduwas ocr and wjec gcse 😭

I’m still in middle school so I don’t know much about all this yet 😭

omg you’re a babyyyy 🥺 wish i could go back to not knowing wtf the exam boards are i literally have been traumatised into remembering them 💔

okay so the difference is… they all do whatever they want to do 💀 it obviously depends on the subject to how vastly different each exam board is. For example, i did OCR computer science at gcse and they got us to write our code out on paper (who tf does that), whereas my sister does edexcel and they have slightly different content and get to type their code. Similarly for geography, the content they teach and how they distribute it across the exam papers differs.

we’re going back 2 years for me to remember my gcses but tbh my school only did ocr, edexcel, and aqa, and honestly aqa was the best of the three imo (though i think it’s the worst for a level now). i think which exam board your skl picks is based on the content they want to teach, and also the location?? (i think wjec is welsh???).

tbh tho the exam boards don’t differ that much for the majority of subjects because gcses are more basic content, it’s just some are more well known for asking evil questions (ocr ocr ocr). obviously for subjects like physics all exam boards are going to look at stuff like electricity or energy, and it’s pretty similar across the subjects.

i wouldn’t worry too much about it tho, life is chill for you rn if you haven’t started gcses so just enjoy it all, i’d give anything to go back xx

[cosmiho]

hello how is your school year STILL going 😭🙏

🫩

uk school system for you man, gcse and a level students get off a month earlier than normal school (my sister still has school until july 16th 💀) so tbh idk what i’m complaining abt i’m literally done in less than 2 weeks and i’ve literally only got 2 exams left 😭

though my fuckass exam timetable decided it was a good idea to give me an 8 DAY gap between my last 2 exams so basically they’re dragging it atp. genuinely felt like i’ve lived 4 different lifetimes since my exams started and it hasn’t even been a month 💔 a levels are actually crazy so many ppl ik have health problems rn cuz of stress 😭

my friend who finished yesterday is already flexing that she’s on summer holiday now 🫥 might have to block her ngl. none of you guys who have finished school are allowed to flex on me because i WILL block you #bewarned

[cosmiho]

GUYSSSS GUESS WHO’S FINALLY FREE FROM A LEVEL PSYCHOLOGY

my paper was actually really good there were only 2 wacky questions so lowkey i cooked 😜😜😜 almost shed a tear at how good one of the 10 markers was 😭

still got politics left 💔 but after that i’m freeeeeeee

[cosmiho]

seonghyeon as spiderman ⁉️ seonghyeon as spiderman 🤔 seonghyeon as spiderman 👍

[cosmiho]

YO GUYS 700 OF YOU IS ACTUALLY INSANE THANK YOU SO MUCH

i genuinely never expected my blog to grow this quickly in such a short amount of time, i’m actually so grateful for each and every one of you 🫶 got me tearing up and shii

i didn’t think this many people would like my works and such but you have all been so kind and it’s been so crazy seeing how many notes my fics get 😭

i love you all so soooo much and genuinely thank you! xx

[cosmiho]

i still think abt “the man who can’t be moved” and random points of my day btw……………….

me too girl, me too….

[cosmiho]

GIRL GENUINELY I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT TO SAY RN CAUSE I CANT EVEN PUT INTO WORDS HOW GOOD YOUR SHIT IS 😭😭😭 like I just read all of it and WOWWWWW WOWWWWWWAWWWWWWW you are so talented and please put out things like ever single second of every single day because that’s what I need rn 💋🌹 your fics are SO good they’re literally the only ones that I like right now and I just love it all I love it I love it I love it please never ever stop and release a ton of stuff nooooo 👀👀 please don’t release docs every day 👀👀 don’t do it 👀👀

Overall I love you and I love your writing and remember me when you’re famous and acknowledged because I am your number one fan!!!!! if you’re writing anything rn we’d love a sneak peak 😳😳😳

OMG THANK YOUUUUUUU 🤭🤭🤭

please i’m really trying to give you guys loads of fics, i’ve got so many ideas and requests i just don’t have lots of time right now because of my stupid exams 💔💔💔 you guys aren’t ready for the amount of fics imma be creating after june 16th 😈🙏

you got me blushing omg 😛😛😛 guys lowkey this is me living out my dreams of being a writer cuz i can’t do it as a job 😭 maybe you’ll see me famous in another way 🤔🤔🤔 my career aspirations highkey do put me in the view of the public, idk guys i can’t predict the future 💀 in another life i’m a librarian who spends all my free time writing books 💔

anyways since you’re such a cutie patootie, here’s a sneak peak of the upcoming 80s!seonghyeon fic (including the playlist because i’m absolutely obsessed with the songs rn):

[cosmiho]

hi twinn 😭 came back read the slytherin!jju fic and omfg thank you for the meal!! i loved the yearning, the reveal, the tension, the everything <3333 you slayed it yet again frrr 🔥 i seriously love your writing so much i cheer everytime i see your post ✊

oh and the cortis tour being announced was NOT what i expected 😭😭 im sad they’re only going to like 3 countries but im hoping they do a world tour next year cz i NEED to see them or i’ll crash out fr ☠️🔫

and lastly, i hope ur exams finish soon, ik a-levels are a pain in the ass so goodluck twin 🤞 it will be over #soon 🙏 (i would include a pic of cortis for better effect but i lowk don’t save much so just pretend there’s one below 😺✌️)

HEY TWINSKIIII

i actually loved writing slytherin!juhoon so much genuinely my favourite fic i’ve written everrrr, had to lock in super hard tho cuz i was trying a different style of writing to what i usually do 😭

i saw people saying this tour could be like a tester for them to see their fan reception so 👀👀👀👀 they actually have to do a world tour, but i think they need a few more songs for it to work (plus they’re already talking about their third album…). if they don’t come to the uk in the next two years i’ll actually lose it i’m not even playing the amount of jealousy i have for LA coers cannot even be put into words.

thank you pookie bear 🫩🫶 a levels have genuinely dragged sooooo bad it feels like i started exams ages ago and it’s only been like just over two weeks 💀 literally all of my friend finish next week and i still have an extra week after that 💔💔💔 on the plus side tho i finished a level history today so i am finally free from the shackles of thatcher 😜😜😜😜 also finish psychology on friday so it’s only one subject dragging me back into school thankfully so i can just focus on that 🙏. only thing keeping me going is my holiday i have booked in july cuz i need to leave this country RIGHT NOW 😭

love youuuu xx

[cosmiho]

FADE INTO YOU — AHN KEONHO

SYNOPSIS :: In dinosaur drawings and stealing your fries, Keonho has always shown that it would only ever be you.

W.C :: 4.3k

CONTAINS :: childhoodfriend!keonho, childhood friends to lovers, swimmer!keonho briefly mentioned, skinship, kissing, both being slightly oblivious, teenage love

PLAYLIST :: Fade into you - Mazzy Star; Every summertime - Niki; Daylight - Taylor Swift; Open arms - Sza; Lovely girl - Racing Mind; Lover is a day - Cuco

Keonho and you were two peas in a pod for as long as anyone could remember, having known each other since you were little kids being placed as seatmates on the first day of school.

You don't even recall the teacher's face anymore. Just the scratch of the chair legs on the floor, the smell of crayons and raincoats, and this boy next to you who immediately drew a tiny dinosaur on a piece of paper atop the corner of his desk and looked over at you like he was waiting for you to react. You drew a bigger dinosaur next to his. He grinned, all missing teeth and mischief, and that was that.

For years, that was just how life worked. He stole the left-side swing before you could get to it, then gave it up with an exaggerated sigh. You saved him a seat at lunch and he'd slide in like he owned the place, stealing fries off your tray before you could stop him. He walked you home even when it was out of his way, kicking rocks and making up ridiculous stories just to hear you laugh. You made signs for his swim meets with glitter glue and terrible handwriting, and he'd hold them up at the finish line and wave them like a flag, completely and utterly unembarrassed.

He never said thank you in words, he was just a boy after all. But he'd show up at your door the next day with your favourite candy, toss it at your head, and say "Don't get used to it" with a smirk.

People always asked if you were dating, and you’d both turned red and say no far too quickly, spending the rest of the afternoon pretending not to look at each other. But by dinner, he was sending you a video of his dog doing something stupid, and you were sending back a blurry picture of your homework, and everything was normal again.

You grew comfortable with each other in ways you didn't fully appreciate until much later.

It just happened naturally, like moss creeping over stones or the way a favourite hoodie eventually molds itself to your shoulders. You knew how he took his ramyeon. He knew that you cried at animal commercials. You could sit in the same room for hours without speaking and neither of you would feel lonely—but also, you could talk for hours without running out of things to say, him talking just as much as you did, his voice easy and warm and full of jokes.

That was the thing about Keonho. Silence with him was fine, but laughter with him was better.

Maybe that's why it took you so long to realise.

Because love, the way people talked about it, was supposed to be loud: heartbeats and fireworks and grand gestures. But yours was just there. Already there. Had been there so long you'd stopped noticing it, like the air in your lungs or the beat of your own heart. It was in the way he threw popcorn at your head during movies, how he'd fake gag when you said something sappy, even in the way he'd look so softly at you when he thought you weren't paying attention.

You remember the exact moment you finally noticed, though.

You were both twelve, sprawled on his bedroom floor doing nothing in particular. He was reading something, or more so he was pretending to read something, because you caught him staring at you over the top of his book. You opened your mouth to say something smart, but he spoke first.

"You've got a weird face," he said, completely deadpan.

"Excuse me?"

"It's not a bad weird. Just. Weird."

You threw a pencil at him and he caught it, grinning. And for one second, one stupid, electric second, your chest did something strange it had never done before. Or maybe it had. Maybe it had been doing it for years and you'd just never paid attention.

You looked back down at your worksheet pretending to be cool, but your hand was shaking.

You didn't tell him. Not that day and not for a long time. You just started noticing things you'd always known but never felt. The way his hair fell across his forehead when he was tired, how his grin softened into something smaller when he thought you weren't looking, and how he said your name like it was a private joke the two of you shared.

And you thought: Oh no.

Oh no.

Because how were you supposed to go back to normal after that?

But you did, or at least you pretended to. You still saved him seats. He still walked you home, still kicked rocks, still made up stupid stories. You still made terrible glitter signs for his meets, and he still waved them like an idiot at the finish line.

You hadn't realised that Keonho felt the same, and had pretty much always felt the same. You thought it was just you and your own stupid heart getting carried away like it always did. You thought you were being careful, keeping it hidden enough that no one noticed.

But Keonho had always been faster than you. Quicker with a joke, quicker with a comeback, quicker to figure things out.

So while you were busy pretending everything was normal, he was busy noticing that you'd stopped returning his teasing, and you laughed a little too loud when someone mentioned dating, yet you still found reasons to touch his sleeve, his shoulder, his hand—fleeting things you probably didn't even realise you were doing, but still felt intentional to him.

He noticed all of it.

He just didn't say anything yet because nothing was scarier than attempting to figure out if you were risking an entire friendship for a love that held even the slightest possibility of being unrequited.

Instead, he started doing small things. Bringing you your favourite snack without being asked, and then pretending he'd bought it for himself until you stole it. Walking even slower on the way home so the walk lasted longer, complaining loudly about how tired he was. Letting his shoulder brush yours more often and then saying "Watch where you're going" like it was your fault.

You convinced yourself it didn't mean anything. He was just being Keonho. Annoying, playful, slightly obnoxious Keonho who had never once looked at anyone the way people looked at each other in movies.

And, to be honest, Keonho grew a little frustrated that you couldn't read into his—what he believed to be—plainly obvious attempts of showing you he liked you.

Because in his mind, he was being so screamingly obvious.

He'd started walking on the outside of the pavement so you were farther from the road, a trick he’d learnt from the kdrama you’d forced him to watch with you. He'd started bringing two of everything: two ice pops, two sodas, two bags of chips, and when you asked, he'd shrug and say "I was hungry" while shoving one straight into your hand. He'd started remembering things you mentioned once, offhand, like your favourite song or the name of a movie you wanted to see, and then bringing them up weeks later like it was no big deal.

And you just… smiled, said thanks and went back to your usual routine.

He once sat next to you on the school bus and let his leg press against yours for the entire forty-minute ride. Didn't move, or even breathe, honestly. And you just leaned your head against the window and fell asleep.

He spent that whole ride staring straight ahead, ears on fire, wondering if you were being oblivious on purpose or if you had simply never once thought of him as anything other than the annoying boy who stole your fries.

The answer, of course, was neither. You just didn't think someone like Keonho could ever like someone like you. So your brain filed every single one of his attempts under just being Keonho and refused to look at them any other way.

It drove him crazy.

He'd lie awake at night staring at his ceiling, replaying every moment of the day, trying to figure out what else he was supposed to do. Write you a song? He could do that, badly and off-key just to see you laugh. Hold your hand? He could do that too, he'd just have to come up with a stupid excuse first. Show up at your door with flowers? The thought made him want to throw up, but also, maybe. If it was you. He’d only do it if it were you.

He was twelve. Then thirteen. Then fourteen. And still, somehow, you hadn't noticed.

Everyone else seemed to be able to see it. Your mothers whispered and giggled behind their hands, picturing wedding colors before either of you had even held hands. Your friends rolled their eyes every time you said "Keonho's just being Keonho" like it was the most ridiculous sentence they'd ever heard. Even his swim coach once asked, after a meet, "Is that your girlfriend?" and Keonho had laughed and said "Not yet" and the coach had looked very confused because why else would this random girl be at every competition other than to cheer on her boyfriend?

But you? You were the only person in the entire world who couldn't see what was standing right in front of you.

It wasn't that you were stupid, because you weren't. It was that Keonho had been part of your life for so long that you'd stopped seeing him as a person and started seeing him as just… Keonho. The background radiation of your everyday existence. As necessary and as invisible as the air. The annoying, teasing, funny, stupid oxygen that made your heart beat its usually fast pace, but that if you went without you wouldn’t survive past 5 minutes.

You didn't notice the way his eyes followed you across the cafeteria because his eyes had always followed you across the cafeteria. You didn't notice how he said your name softer than he said anyone else's because your name had always sounded like that coming from his mouth—and also because he'd absolutely deny it if you asked. You didn't notice that he never touched anyone the way he touched you: a shove on the shoulder, a flick to your forehead, a hand ruffling your hair, because you had no way of knowing what he was like with other people when you weren't around.

(For the record: funny, but not as funny. Playful, but not as much. He saves his best material for you. He always has.)

The summer after he turned fourteen, he nearly told you five separate times. Once at the pool, your legs dangling in the water next to his, him splashing you on purpose. Once at the convenience store, buying you both the same ice cream without asking what you wanted because he already knew, and then licking yours before handing it over just to watch you shriek. Once on your front porch, the two of you sitting on the steps while the fireflies came out, him getting quieter and quieter until you asked if he was sick and he fumbled his words.

And once in his bedroom, you lying on his floor complaining about something, him sitting on his bed pretending to listen. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. Still nothing came out.

Instead, he threw a pillow at your head.

"Hey!" you said, laughing.

"You talk too much," he said.

But his ears were pink and he turned his face away, pretending to look for something on his bedside table. Anything to distract himself really: a pencil, a dead fly, he would have studied the dust motes floating in the afternoon light if it meant not looking at you sprawled on his floor, hair everywhere, cheeks flushed from laughing.

Because if he really, truly looked at you he knew he'd say it. And saying it out loud meant making it real. And making it real meant he could lose the one thing he knew he couldn’t lose.

That was the part no one talked about. Not in the movies, or in the goofy songs he hummed when he thought no one was listening. They always made confession feel like a door opening. But what if it was a door closing instead? What if he told you, and you laughed at him and then everything got weird? What if you stopped lying on his floor? What if you stopped stealing his fries as payback? What if you stopped being you and Keonho and became just two people who used to be friends?

He couldn't survive that.

You rolled onto your back and threw the pillow back at him. It hit him square in the face. "You're so weird lately," you said, but you were smiling.

He caught the pillow and held it in his lap. "Am not."

"Are too. You keep zoning out. And your ears are always red. Are you sick?"

"No."

"Fever?"

"No."

"Then what?"

He looked at you then for just a second. Long enough to memorise the way the light hit your face as you looked up at him like he was someone worth looking at. Then he turned away.

"Nothing," he said. "You're just loud."

"Rude," you said, and went back to complaining about your math homework.

And Keonho sat there on his bed, pillow in his lap, wondering if you would even feel the same.

That was the real question, wasn't it? Not if he loved you—that had been settled years beforehand. But whether you loved him back. Whether you had ever once looked at him and felt that same stupid, suffocating, wonderful thing he felt every time you walked into a room.

He didn't know.

He thought he knew you better than anyone, but he didn't know this. He couldn't tell if the way you leaned into him on the bus meant something or if you just did it because he was warm. He couldn't tell if the way you saved him a seat meant you wanted him there or if it was just habit. He couldn't tell if you looked at him the way he looked at you: like he was something precious, something fragile, something worth keeping.

Probably not, he thought. You were you. Bright and loud and easy with everyone. You hugged your friends and laughed with strangers. You probably didn't even realise you'd been breaking his heart gently for years, just by being yourself.

What he did know, though, was that even if you never feel the same way, he'd still want you here in every way you've ever been: stealing his food as payback, calling him annoying, falling asleep on his shoulder on the bus.

That was the scariest part. That he’d sacrifice his entire heart for the mere moments he gets to share with you because feeling heartbroken with you there was still a better fate than not having you at all.

But feelings that rooted themselves so deeply in you before you even had words to express them didn't stay buried forever. They grow whether you want them to or not, press against ribs and make a home in your throat. And eventually, carrying something so heavy on a soul so young is bound to boil over.

It happened on an ordinary Tuesday. You were walking home together like you always did: the same street at the same pace with the same space between you that sometimes shrunk and sometimes grew but never quite disappeared. He was carrying your backpack for you because you'd complained about your shoulders hurting—and he'd made fun of you for it first before taking it because that was his job and had always been his job. You were talking about something: a show you'd been watching, a friend who'd said something annoying, he couldn't even remember what.

And then you stopped walking.

He stopped too, confused. "What, did you forget something?"

You were looking at him with your eyebrows drawn together and your mouth slightly open. You looked like you'd just realised something you weren't supposed to realise.

"Ahn Keonho," you said slowly.

"Uh oh. Full name. Am I in trouble?"

"Why are you carrying my backpack?"

He blinked. "Because you said your shoulders hurt and then you whined about it for ten minutes. I did it to shut you up."

"Right." You nodded but continued to stare at him. "But why do you always do that? Carry my stuff? Walk me home? Remember everything I say?"

He felt his ears get hot and he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Because someone has to. You're a disaster."

"No," you said. "That's not what people just do. People don't just—" You gestured at him, at the backpack, at the years of history between you. "Keonho. Do you like me?"

The world got very quiet. No cars or birds. Just the sound of his heartbeat in his ears and your voice hanging in the air between them.

He opened his mouth but nothing came out, just like his bedroom and the pool, and like every other time he'd almost said it and then swallowed it back down.

But his ribs were aching, his throat was full, and he was so, so tired of carrying it alone.

So he did what he always did when he didn't have words. He deflected.

"What kind of question is that?" He said, aiming for casual and missing by a mile and a half. "Of course I like you. You're tolerable. Sometimes."

"Keonho."

"I mean, you're loud. You steal my food. You fell asleep on my shoulder on the bus and you drooled. On me. I should get hazard pay for—"

"Keonho."

He stopped and finally looked at you, noticing how your eyes were shining slightly.

"Just answer the question," you said quietly.

He swallowed. His ears were on fire now, and his heart was doing something violent in his chest.

"Yeah," he said. Voice barely there. "I like you. I've liked you. Probably since you drew that bigger dinosaur."

You stared at him. "The dinosaur?"

"You don't remember? First day of school. I drew a tiny dinosaur. You looked at me like I was an idiot and drew a bigger one." He shrugged, pretending it didn't matter. "You’ve been the only thing on my mind since."

You didn't say anything. You just stood there on the sidewalk, your backpack hanging off one of his shoulders, your eyes wide and shining and wet.

And then—

"You've been carrying my backpack for years and years because of a dinosaur?" you said.

He froze. "That's— that's not— that's not what I—"

You laughed, your eyes scrunching in delight as his gaze couldn’t help but soften at the sight. And then you stepped forward and threw your arms around his neck, backpack and all, and he stumbled back two steps before catching you both.

"You're such an idiot," you said into his shoulder.

He couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Couldn't do anything but stand there with your weight against him and your hair in his face and the entire world rearranging itself around his feet.

"Yeah," he whispered. "I know."

You pulled back just enough to look at him. Your face was closer than it had ever been and he could finally see every small detail he'd never noticed before.

"I kept the drawing too," you said quietly.

He blinked. "The drawing?"

"You let me keep the paper we drew on. I still have it."

His heart did something complicated. A warm, spreading thing that made his chest feel too small for everything inside it. "You're such a sap," he said, but his voice came out softer than he meant it to, almost fond. He'd kill you if you pointed that out.

"You're the one who fell in love because of a dinosaur."

He opened his mouth to argue but struggled to find any words because you were standing there, your face still too close, eyes still shining, and you were smiling at him like he'd just given you the world instead of a confession he'd been choking on for years.

"Touché," he managed.

And then you kissed him—or at least attempted to

Your nose bumped against his cheek. You’d angled wrong at first and had to correct. Your hands came up to grip the front of his jacket like you were afraid he might disappear.

He almost laughed. Almost. But then your lips were on his: soft, warm, a little clumsy, and every single thought in his head scattered like startled birds.

You pulled back too soon for him to fully comprehend what was happening. His ears were scarlet, he could feel the heat radiating off them, and his face was doing something he couldn't control. His mouth was still slightly open. His eyes were probably wide. He probably looked like an absolute idiot.

"So," you said, grinning like you hadn't just rearranged his entire internal organs, "does this mean you're going to stop stealing my fries?"

He stared at you. The audacity. The absolute audacity of this girl. You’d just had your first kiss on a random sidewalk after endless years of pining, and you were worried about fries.

"Absolutely not," he said.

And then he kissed you back.

His hand came up to cup the side of your face—something he'd seen in movies, and he'd imagined doing a thousand times in the privacy of his own head. His fingers were shaking and he hoped you couldn't tell. He kissed you slower this time, not because he knew what he was doing but because he wanted to remember it. The way you sighed against his mouth and your fingers tightened in his jacket. The way the whole world narrowed down to just this: you, him, the space between you finally closed.

When you broke apart, you were smiling so wide your eyes had practically disappeared. His ears were still on fire and his heart was still doing something embarrassing. 

"Your face is really red," you said.

"Yours is too."

"Liar."

"You wanna go look in a mirror?"

You shoved his shoulder. He caught your hand before you could pull it back and held it there, fingers loosely tangled with you, and they stayed tied together for awhile

After that, things were different. Softer like someone had turned down the volume of the world and turned up the warmth. He still stole your fries and you still called him annoying. But now when he held your hand, he didn't make up an excuse first. Now when you leaned your head on his shoulder on the bus, he'd rest his cheek on top of your head and pretend he wasn't smiling. Now when your mothers whispered and giggled behind their hands, he'd stage-whisper to you and you'd both dissolve into laughter at whatever cheeky comment he’d made.

Being loved by Keonho, you learned, was a noisy thing.

It was him showing up at your door with your favourite snack, tossing it at your head, and saying "you owe me." It was him waiting for you after school even when your classes ran late, complaining loudly about how cold it was the entire time. It was him looking at you across a crowded room and pulling a stupid face until you laughed.

He still teased you constantly, that never changed and likely never would. But now there was something warmer underneath it that made your chest ache in the best way. Now when he called you annoying, it meant I love you. Now when he stole your food, it meant I love you. Now when he pulled stupid faces and made bad jokes and walked you home even when it was out of his way, it all meant the same thing.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

He never said it often. Maybe once a month, maybe even less. But he didn't need to. He'd been saying it for years—in dinosaurs and stolen fries, in backpacks carried and seats saved and walks home that were never out of his way. He'd been saying it in every stupid joke and every teasing grin and every time he looked at you like you were the best thing that had ever happened to him.

You just hadn't known how to listen yet.

Now you did.

"You know," you said one night, lying on his bedroom floor, him sprawled next to you, both of you staring at the ceiling. "I can't believe it took us this long."

"Blame yourself," he said. "You're oblivious."

"I'm not oblivious. You're just bad at flirting."

"I drew you a dinosaur."

"That was in first grade."

"My game has always been strong."

You turned your head to look at him, and found him already looking at you, his eyes soft in the dim light.

"I love you," you said. Just because you could.

He was quiet for a moment. Then: "I know."

"You're the worst." You roll your eyes, a grin forming on his face.

"You love me."

"Unfortunately," you said. And when he smiled his real smile that he didn't give to anyone else, you knew he was right.

People said you were too young to know what forever meant, and maybe they were right. But when you looked at Keonho, at this boy who had been beside you since the first day of school, who knew you better than anyone, who had loved you since before he even knew the word for it, you couldn't imagine a version of your life where he wasn't there.

And neither could he.

"So," you said one afternoon, walking home, his arm slung over your shoulders, your backpack hanging off his other arm because he still carried it even though you'd stopped asking. "Do you think we'll make it?"

"To where?"

"To forever. Or whatever."

He snorted. "That's a stupid question."

"Is it?"

He stopped walking and looked down at you. His ears were already pink, but he was smiling so softly at you you felt like you were going to melt.

"I've been carrying your stuff since we were seven," he said. "You really think I'm gonna stop now?"

You grinned. "That's not an answer."

"It's the only answer you're getting."

And he started walking again, pulling you along with him, and you let him. Because that was how it had always been and that was how it would always be.

You were fifteen. You were sixteen. You were two peas in a pod, still, always, just like everyone always said.

Some things don't need to be forever to be real.

But this one, you suspected, might just make it anyway.

[cosmiho]

TAGLIST :: @cookeyy @hyunsphoria @chaoyvfan @kkeonhoz @nolongeryoungbutbeautiful @enha4cortis @its-vante @lowkhyeon @en-dream @cortismysunshines @adoure @h4chi @chrmedbyjju @taelvvrzz @kienhawon @junpom @velosiq @wouldntyuliketoknowweatherboy @peerlesspine

[cosmiho]

FADE INTO YOU — AHN KEONHO

SYNOPSIS :: In dinosaur drawings and stealing your fries, Keonho has always shown that it would only ever be you.

W.C :: 4.3k

CONTAINS :: childhoodfriend!keonho, childhood friends to lovers, swimmer!keonho briefly mentioned, skinship, kissing, both being slightly oblivious, teenage love

PLAYLIST :: Fade into you - Mazzy Star; Every summertime - Niki; Daylight - Taylor Swift; Open arms - Sza; Lovely girl - Racing Mind; Lover is a day - Cuco

Keonho and you were two peas in a pod for as long as anyone could remember, having known each other since you were little kids being placed as seatmates on the first day of school.

You don't even recall the teacher's face anymore. Just the scratch of the chair legs on the floor, the smell of crayons and raincoats, and this boy next to you who immediately drew a tiny dinosaur on a piece of paper atop the corner of his desk and looked over at you like he was waiting for you to react. You drew a bigger dinosaur next to his. He grinned, all missing teeth and mischief, and that was that.

For years, that was just how life worked. He stole the left-side swing before you could get to it, then gave it up with an exaggerated sigh. You saved him a seat at lunch and he'd slide in like he owned the place, stealing fries off your tray before you could stop him. He walked you home even when it was out of his way, kicking rocks and making up ridiculous stories just to hear you laugh. You made signs for his swim meets with glitter glue and terrible handwriting, and he'd hold them up at the finish line and wave them like a flag, completely and utterly unembarrassed.

He never said thank you in words, he was just a boy after all. But he'd show up at your door the next day with your favourite candy, toss it at your head, and say "Don't get used to it" with a smirk.

People always asked if you were dating, and you’d both turned red and say no far too quickly, spending the rest of the afternoon pretending not to look at each other. But by dinner, he was sending you a video of his dog doing something stupid, and you were sending back a blurry picture of your homework, and everything was normal again.

You grew comfortable with each other in ways you didn't fully appreciate until much later.

It just happened naturally, like moss creeping over stones or the way a favourite hoodie eventually molds itself to your shoulders. You knew how he took his ramyeon. He knew that you cried at animal commercials. You could sit in the same room for hours without speaking and neither of you would feel lonely—but also, you could talk for hours without running out of things to say, him talking just as much as you did, his voice easy and warm and full of jokes.

That was the thing about Keonho. Silence with him was fine, but laughter with him was better.

Maybe that's why it took you so long to realise.

Because love, the way people talked about it, was supposed to be loud: heartbeats and fireworks and grand gestures. But yours was just there. Already there. Had been there so long you'd stopped noticing it, like the air in your lungs or the beat of your own heart. It was in the way he threw popcorn at your head during movies, how he'd fake gag when you said something sappy, even in the way he'd look so softly at you when he thought you weren't paying attention.

You remember the exact moment you finally noticed, though.

You were both twelve, sprawled on his bedroom floor doing nothing in particular. He was reading something, or more so he was pretending to read something, because you caught him staring at you over the top of his book. You opened your mouth to say something smart, but he spoke first.

"You've got a weird face," he said, completely deadpan.

"Excuse me?"

"It's not a bad weird. Just. Weird."

You threw a pencil at him and he caught it, grinning. And for one second, one stupid, electric second, your chest did something strange it had never done before. Or maybe it had. Maybe it had been doing it for years and you'd just never paid attention.

You looked back down at your worksheet pretending to be cool, but your hand was shaking.

You didn't tell him. Not that day and not for a long time. You just started noticing things you'd always known but never felt. The way his hair fell across his forehead when he was tired, how his grin softened into something smaller when he thought you weren't looking, and how he said your name like it was a private joke the two of you shared.

And you thought: Oh no.

Oh no.

Because how were you supposed to go back to normal after that?

But you did, or at least you pretended to. You still saved him seats. He still walked you home, still kicked rocks, still made up stupid stories. You still made terrible glitter signs for his meets, and he still waved them like an idiot at the finish line.

You hadn't realised that Keonho felt the same, and had pretty much always felt the same. You thought it was just you and your own stupid heart getting carried away like it always did. You thought you were being careful, keeping it hidden enough that no one noticed.

But Keonho had always been faster than you. Quicker with a joke, quicker with a comeback, quicker to figure things out.

So while you were busy pretending everything was normal, he was busy noticing that you'd stopped returning his teasing, and you laughed a little too loud when someone mentioned dating, yet you still found reasons to touch his sleeve, his shoulder, his hand—fleeting things you probably didn't even realise you were doing, but still felt intentional to him.

He noticed all of it.

He just didn't say anything yet because nothing was scarier than attempting to figure out if you were risking an entire friendship for a love that held even the slightest possibility of being unrequited.

Instead, he started doing small things. Bringing you your favourite snack without being asked, and then pretending he'd bought it for himself until you stole it. Walking even slower on the way home so the walk lasted longer, complaining loudly about how tired he was. Letting his shoulder brush yours more often and then saying "Watch where you're going" like it was your fault.

You convinced yourself it didn't mean anything. He was just being Keonho. Annoying, playful, slightly obnoxious Keonho who had never once looked at anyone the way people looked at each other in movies.

And, to be honest, Keonho grew a little frustrated that you couldn't read into his—what he believed to be—plainly obvious attempts of showing you he liked you.

Because in his mind, he was being so screamingly obvious.

He'd started walking on the outside of the pavement so you were farther from the road, a trick he’d learnt from the kdrama you’d forced him to watch with you. He'd started bringing two of everything: two ice pops, two sodas, two bags of chips, and when you asked, he'd shrug and say "I was hungry" while shoving one straight into your hand. He'd started remembering things you mentioned once, offhand, like your favourite song or the name of a movie you wanted to see, and then bringing them up weeks later like it was no big deal.

And you just… smiled, said thanks and went back to your usual routine.

He once sat next to you on the school bus and let his leg press against yours for the entire forty-minute ride. Didn't move, or even breathe, honestly. And you just leaned your head against the window and fell asleep.

He spent that whole ride staring straight ahead, ears on fire, wondering if you were being oblivious on purpose or if you had simply never once thought of him as anything other than the annoying boy who stole your fries.

The answer, of course, was neither. You just didn't think someone like Keonho could ever like someone like you. So your brain filed every single one of his attempts under just being Keonho and refused to look at them any other way.

It drove him crazy.

He'd lie awake at night staring at his ceiling, replaying every moment of the day, trying to figure out what else he was supposed to do. Write you a song? He could do that, badly and off-key just to see you laugh. Hold your hand? He could do that too, he'd just have to come up with a stupid excuse first. Show up at your door with flowers? The thought made him want to throw up, but also, maybe. If it was you. He’d only do it if it were you.

He was twelve. Then thirteen. Then fourteen. And still, somehow, you hadn't noticed.

Everyone else seemed to be able to see it. Your mothers whispered and giggled behind their hands, picturing wedding colors before either of you had even held hands. Your friends rolled their eyes every time you said "Keonho's just being Keonho" like it was the most ridiculous sentence they'd ever heard. Even his swim coach once asked, after a meet, "Is that your girlfriend?" and Keonho had laughed and said "Not yet" and the coach had looked very confused because why else would this random girl be at every competition other than to cheer on her boyfriend?

But you? You were the only person in the entire world who couldn't see what was standing right in front of you.

It wasn't that you were stupid, because you weren't. It was that Keonho had been part of your life for so long that you'd stopped seeing him as a person and started seeing him as just… Keonho. The background radiation of your everyday existence. As necessary and as invisible as the air. The annoying, teasing, funny, stupid oxygen that made your heart beat its usually fast pace, but that if you went without you wouldn’t survive past 5 minutes.

You didn't notice the way his eyes followed you across the cafeteria because his eyes had always followed you across the cafeteria. You didn't notice how he said your name softer than he said anyone else's because your name had always sounded like that coming from his mouth—and also because he'd absolutely deny it if you asked. You didn't notice that he never touched anyone the way he touched you: a shove on the shoulder, a flick to your forehead, a hand ruffling your hair, because you had no way of knowing what he was like with other people when you weren't around.

(For the record: funny, but not as funny. Playful, but not as much. He saves his best material for you. He always has.)

The summer after he turned fourteen, he nearly told you five separate times. Once at the pool, your legs dangling in the water next to his, him splashing you on purpose. Once at the convenience store, buying you both the same ice cream without asking what you wanted because he already knew, and then licking yours before handing it over just to watch you shriek. Once on your front porch, the two of you sitting on the steps while the fireflies came out, him getting quieter and quieter until you asked if he was sick and he fumbled his words.

And once in his bedroom, you lying on his floor complaining about something, him sitting on his bed pretending to listen. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. Still nothing came out.

Instead, he threw a pillow at your head.

"Hey!" you said, laughing.

"You talk too much," he said.

But his ears were pink and he turned his face away, pretending to look for something on his bedside table. Anything to distract himself really: a pencil, a dead fly, he would have studied the dust motes floating in the afternoon light if it meant not looking at you sprawled on his floor, hair everywhere, cheeks flushed from laughing.

Because if he really, truly looked at you he knew he'd say it. And saying it out loud meant making it real. And making it real meant he could lose the one thing he knew he couldn’t lose.

That was the part no one talked about. Not in the movies, or in the goofy songs he hummed when he thought no one was listening. They always made confession feel like a door opening. But what if it was a door closing instead? What if he told you, and you laughed at him and then everything got weird? What if you stopped lying on his floor? What if you stopped stealing his fries as payback? What if you stopped being you and Keonho and became just two people who used to be friends?

He couldn't survive that.

You rolled onto your back and threw the pillow back at him. It hit him square in the face. "You're so weird lately," you said, but you were smiling.

He caught the pillow and held it in his lap. "Am not."

"Are too. You keep zoning out. And your ears are always red. Are you sick?"

"No."

"Fever?"

"No."

"Then what?"

He looked at you then for just a second. Long enough to memorise the way the light hit your face as you looked up at him like he was someone worth looking at. Then he turned away.

"Nothing," he said. "You're just loud."

"Rude," you said, and went back to complaining about your math homework.

And Keonho sat there on his bed, pillow in his lap, wondering if you would even feel the same.

That was the real question, wasn't it? Not if he loved you—that had been settled years beforehand. But whether you loved him back. Whether you had ever once looked at him and felt that same stupid, suffocating, wonderful thing he felt every time you walked into a room.

He didn't know.

He thought he knew you better than anyone, but he didn't know this. He couldn't tell if the way you leaned into him on the bus meant something or if you just did it because he was warm. He couldn't tell if the way you saved him a seat meant you wanted him there or if it was just habit. He couldn't tell if you looked at him the way he looked at you: like he was something precious, something fragile, something worth keeping.

Probably not, he thought. You were you. Bright and loud and easy with everyone. You hugged your friends and laughed with strangers. You probably didn't even realise you'd been breaking his heart gently for years, just by being yourself.

What he did know, though, was that even if you never feel the same way, he'd still want you here in every way you've ever been: stealing his food as payback, calling him annoying, falling asleep on his shoulder on the bus.

That was the scariest part. That he’d sacrifice his entire heart for the mere moments he gets to share with you because feeling heartbroken with you there was still a better fate than not having you at all.

But feelings that rooted themselves so deeply in you before you even had words to express them didn't stay buried forever. They grow whether you want them to or not, press against ribs and make a home in your throat. And eventually, carrying something so heavy on a soul so young is bound to boil over.

It happened on an ordinary Tuesday. You were walking home together like you always did: the same street at the same pace with the same space between you that sometimes shrunk and sometimes grew but never quite disappeared. He was carrying your backpack for you because you'd complained about your shoulders hurting—and he'd made fun of you for it first before taking it because that was his job and had always been his job. You were talking about something: a show you'd been watching, a friend who'd said something annoying, he couldn't even remember what.

And then you stopped walking.

He stopped too, confused. "What, did you forget something?"

You were looking at him with your eyebrows drawn together and your mouth slightly open. You looked like you'd just realised something you weren't supposed to realise.

"Ahn Keonho," you said slowly.

"Uh oh. Full name. Am I in trouble?"

"Why are you carrying my backpack?"

He blinked. "Because you said your shoulders hurt and then you whined about it for ten minutes. I did it to shut you up."

"Right." You nodded but continued to stare at him. "But why do you always do that? Carry my stuff? Walk me home? Remember everything I say?"

He felt his ears get hot and he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Because someone has to. You're a disaster."

"No," you said. "That's not what people just do. People don't just—" You gestured at him, at the backpack, at the years of history between you. "Keonho. Do you like me?"

The world got very quiet. No cars or birds. Just the sound of his heartbeat in his ears and your voice hanging in the air between them.

He opened his mouth but nothing came out, just like his bedroom and the pool, and like every other time he'd almost said it and then swallowed it back down.

But his ribs were aching, his throat was full, and he was so, so tired of carrying it alone.

So he did what he always did when he didn't have words. He deflected.

"What kind of question is that?" He said, aiming for casual and missing by a mile and a half. "Of course I like you. You're tolerable. Sometimes."

"Keonho."

"I mean, you're loud. You steal my food. You fell asleep on my shoulder on the bus and you drooled. On me. I should get hazard pay for—"

"Keonho."

He stopped and finally looked at you, noticing how your eyes were shining slightly.

"Just answer the question," you said quietly.

He swallowed. His ears were on fire now, and his heart was doing something violent in his chest.

"Yeah," he said. Voice barely there. "I like you. I've liked you. Probably since you drew that bigger dinosaur."

You stared at him. "The dinosaur?"

"You don't remember? First day of school. I drew a tiny dinosaur. You looked at me like I was an idiot and drew a bigger one." He shrugged, pretending it didn't matter. "You’ve been the only thing on my mind since."

You didn't say anything. You just stood there on the sidewalk, your backpack hanging off one of his shoulders, your eyes wide and shining and wet.

And then—

"You've been carrying my backpack for years and years because of a dinosaur?" you said.

He froze. "That's— that's not— that's not what I—"

You laughed, your eyes scrunching in delight as his gaze couldn’t help but soften at the sight. And then you stepped forward and threw your arms around his neck, backpack and all, and he stumbled back two steps before catching you both.

"You're such an idiot," you said into his shoulder.

He couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Couldn't do anything but stand there with your weight against him and your hair in his face and the entire world rearranging itself around his feet.

"Yeah," he whispered. "I know."

You pulled back just enough to look at him. Your face was closer than it had ever been and he could finally see every small detail he'd never noticed before.

"I kept the drawing too," you said quietly.

He blinked. "The drawing?"

"You let me keep the paper we drew on. I still have it."

His heart did something complicated. A warm, spreading thing that made his chest feel too small for everything inside it. "You're such a sap," he said, but his voice came out softer than he meant it to, almost fond. He'd kill you if you pointed that out.

"You're the one who fell in love because of a dinosaur."

He opened his mouth to argue but struggled to find any words because you were standing there, your face still too close, eyes still shining, and you were smiling at him like he'd just given you the world instead of a confession he'd been choking on for years.

"Touché," he managed.

And then you kissed him—or at least attempted to

Your nose bumped against his cheek. You’d angled wrong at first and had to correct. Your hands came up to grip the front of his jacket like you were afraid he might disappear.

He almost laughed. Almost. But then your lips were on his: soft, warm, a little clumsy, and every single thought in his head scattered like startled birds.

You pulled back too soon for him to fully comprehend what was happening. His ears were scarlet, he could feel the heat radiating off them, and his face was doing something he couldn't control. His mouth was still slightly open. His eyes were probably wide. He probably looked like an absolute idiot.

"So," you said, grinning like you hadn't just rearranged his entire internal organs, "does this mean you're going to stop stealing my fries?"

He stared at you. The audacity. The absolute audacity of this girl. You’d just had your first kiss on a random sidewalk after endless years of pining, and you were worried about fries.

"Absolutely not," he said.

And then he kissed you back.

His hand came up to cup the side of your face—something he'd seen in movies, and he'd imagined doing a thousand times in the privacy of his own head. His fingers were shaking and he hoped you couldn't tell. He kissed you slower this time, not because he knew what he was doing but because he wanted to remember it. The way you sighed against his mouth and your fingers tightened in his jacket. The way the whole world narrowed down to just this: you, him, the space between you finally closed.

When you broke apart, you were smiling so wide your eyes had practically disappeared. His ears were still on fire and his heart was still doing something embarrassing. 

"Your face is really red," you said.

"Yours is too."

"Liar."

"You wanna go look in a mirror?"

You shoved his shoulder. He caught your hand before you could pull it back and held it there, fingers loosely tangled with you, and they stayed tied together for awhile

After that, things were different. Softer like someone had turned down the volume of the world and turned up the warmth. He still stole your fries and you still called him annoying. But now when he held your hand, he didn't make up an excuse first. Now when you leaned your head on his shoulder on the bus, he'd rest his cheek on top of your head and pretend he wasn't smiling. Now when your mothers whispered and giggled behind their hands, he'd stage-whisper to you and you'd both dissolve into laughter at whatever cheeky comment he’d made.

Being loved by Keonho, you learned, was a noisy thing.

It was him showing up at your door with your favourite snack, tossing it at your head, and saying "you owe me." It was him waiting for you after school even when your classes ran late, complaining loudly about how cold it was the entire time. It was him looking at you across a crowded room and pulling a stupid face until you laughed.

He still teased you constantly, that never changed and likely never would. But now there was something warmer underneath it that made your chest ache in the best way. Now when he called you annoying, it meant I love you. Now when he stole your food, it meant I love you. Now when he pulled stupid faces and made bad jokes and walked you home even when it was out of his way, it all meant the same thing.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

He never said it often. Maybe once a month, maybe even less. But he didn't need to. He'd been saying it for years—in dinosaurs and stolen fries, in backpacks carried and seats saved and walks home that were never out of his way. He'd been saying it in every stupid joke and every teasing grin and every time he looked at you like you were the best thing that had ever happened to him.

You just hadn't known how to listen yet.

Now you did.

"You know," you said one night, lying on his bedroom floor, him sprawled next to you, both of you staring at the ceiling. "I can't believe it took us this long."

"Blame yourself," he said. "You're oblivious."

"I'm not oblivious. You're just bad at flirting."

"I drew you a dinosaur."

"That was in first grade."

"My game has always been strong."

You turned your head to look at him, and found him already looking at you, his eyes soft in the dim light.

"I love you," you said. Just because you could.

He was quiet for a moment. Then: "I know."

"You're the worst." You roll your eyes, a grin forming on his face.

"You love me."

"Unfortunately," you said. And when he smiled his real smile that he didn't give to anyone else, you knew he was right.

People said you were too young to know what forever meant, and maybe they were right. But when you looked at Keonho, at this boy who had been beside you since the first day of school, who knew you better than anyone, who had loved you since before he even knew the word for it, you couldn't imagine a version of your life where he wasn't there.

And neither could he.

"So," you said one afternoon, walking home, his arm slung over your shoulders, your backpack hanging off his other arm because he still carried it even though you'd stopped asking. "Do you think we'll make it?"

"To where?"

"To forever. Or whatever."

He snorted. "That's a stupid question."

"Is it?"

He stopped walking and looked down at you. His ears were already pink, but he was smiling so softly at you you felt like you were going to melt.

"I've been carrying your stuff since we were seven," he said. "You really think I'm gonna stop now?"

You grinned. "That's not an answer."

"It's the only answer you're getting."

And he started walking again, pulling you along with him, and you let him. Because that was how it had always been and that was how it would always be.

You were fifteen. You were sixteen. You were two peas in a pod, still, always, just like everyone always said.

Some things don't need to be forever to be real.

But this one, you suspected, might just make it anyway.

[cosmiho]

me if i actually see modern britain on my modern britain history paper today