💌⋆ Paper Hearts ꒰ A. Keonho ꒱
( 안건호 ) ① FLUFF! • teen romance • slice of life • secret letters au • friends to lovers • you × Ahn Keonho • kissing • emotional vulnerability • mild jealousy • wordcount : 2246
━━━ in which,, one folded page goes missing from your notebook, and suddenly, the feelings you swore you would keep hidden are laying completely open right in front of him.
☆now playing – paper hearts | tori kelly
miu's thoughts ✦ heyy! So it's my first time writing in Tumblr, hope you like my work, nd I'm a Wattpad writer (bluew_ws). If you like my work follow nd support<3
The first letter had started on a Tuesday night.
Not because you were heartbroken. Not because you were dramatic. Mostly because you couldn’t sleep, and because your feelings for Keonho had become too big to carry around quietly.
You wrote it half-curled under your blanket while rain tapped softly against your window.
I think you ruin songs for me.
Every love song sounds like you now.
You stared at the words for a long time afterward, face warm in the dark. Then you folded the paper twice, slipped it into an old shoebox under your bed, and told yourself it didn’t matter.
It wasn’t like you planned to give it to him.
You and Keonho were friends. Close enough to share hoodies and fries and playlists. Close enough that he walked you home after evening cram classes without making it feel like a big deal.
But still friends.
And maybe that was why writing letters felt safer than saying things aloud.
Because letters stayed hidden.
At least, they were supposed to.
—
“You’re smiling at your phone again.”
You looked up from your desk to see your friend grinning knowingly from across the classroom.
“I’m literally not.”
“You literally are.”
Before you could defend yourself, someone dropped into the seat beside you with enough energy to shake the desk slightly.
“Good morning,” Keonho said brightly.
Your stomach betrayed you instantly.
He looked unfairly soft today. Dark hair falling over his forehead, hoodie sleeves covering half his hands, eyes still sleepy from waking up too early. There was always something warm about him, something comfortable. Like sunlight through curtains.
“You look tired,” you muttered.
“So do you.”
“I was studying.”
“I was gaming.”
You snorted.
“Yeah, that sounds more believable.”
He grinned lazily before reaching over to steal the strawberry milk from your desk.
“Hey.”
“You weren’t drinking it.”
“I was going to.”
“But you didn’t.”
Keonho took a sip anyway, eyes sparkling mischievously over the carton. You tried not to stare at the way his lips pressed against the straw.
Failed horribly.
“You’re staring,” he said casually.
Your soul nearly left your body.
“I’m not.”
“Mhm.”
He sounded amused, not smug. That somehow made it worse.
Then the teacher walked in, saving you from complete humiliation.
Barely.
—
The problem with liking Keonho was that he made everything feel important without trying.
The way he always waited for you before leaving class.
The way he remembered tiny details, like how you hated grape-flavored candy or how you always got cold hands during winter.
The way he listened.
Really listened.
Sometimes he looked at you so attentively that it made your chest ache.
Which was exactly why the letters existed.
Because feelings that overwhelming needed somewhere to go.
So you kept writing them.
I think my favorite version of you is when you laugh so hard you can’t breathe properly.
I think if you asked me to follow you anywhere, I would.
I wonder what your first kiss will feel like.
That last one made you slam the notebook shut immediately afterward.
You buried your face in your pillow.
This was getting dangerous.
—
Friday afternoon arrived wrapped in pale sunlight and spring wind.
You were sitting on the grass behind the school gym while Keonho practiced guitar nearby. Not seriously. Just absentminded strumming while humming under his breath.
“You know,” you said, “you only know three songs.”
“That’s not true.”
“It absolutely is.”
He gasped dramatically. “You wound me.”
“You’ve played the same chorus six times.”
“Because it sounds good.”
“It sounds unfinished.”
Keonho laughed quietly.
The sound settled warmly into your chest.
You watched his fingers move over the strings for a moment before looking away quickly. There was something painfully intimate about observing people you liked doing ordinary things.
“You’re quiet today,” he said after a while.
“I’m always quiet.”
“No.” He shook his head lightly. “Not with me.”
The words caught you off guard.
Keonho glanced at you then, eyes softer than usual. Wind lifted strands of his hair gently across his forehead.
You looked down at your hands.
“You notice weird things.”
“I notice you.”
Your heart stopped.
Actually stopped.
Then restarted violently.
Thankfully, Keonho looked completely unaware of the effect he had on people.
He leaned back against the tree behind him, closing one eye against the sunlight.
“You know what I think?” he murmured.
“What?”
“I think you keep things to yourself too much.”
You swallowed.
If only he knew.
—
The letter disappeared three days later.
You noticed immediately because the folded paper sticking out from your literature notebook was suddenly gone.
Your entire body went cold.
No.
No no no.
You emptied your bag onto your bed, panic rising fast and ugly in your throat. Pens, chargers, crumpled receipts, lip balm.
No letter.
Your breathing turned shallow.
Because it wasn’t just any letter.
It was the worst one.
The most honest one.
I think I could love you forever and still feel shy around you.
You wanted to die.
There was only one place it could’ve fallen out.
School.
Which meant anyone could’ve found it.
Your mind spiraled through horrifying possibilities all night.
By morning, you were exhausted.
And terrified.
—
Keonho was weirdly quiet the next day.
Not distant exactly. Just thoughtful.
He kept glancing at you during lunch like he wanted to say something, then changing his mind.
It made your nerves even worse.
Finally, after classes ended, he stopped you outside the gates.
“Can we walk?”
You blinked.
“We always walk.”
“I mean… just us.”
Your stomach dropped.
“Oh.”
The evening air felt cool against your burning face as you followed him down the familiar sidewalk. Cars hummed quietly past. Somewhere nearby, someone was playing music from an apartment window.
Keonho shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket.
“You lost something recently?”
Your soul ascended.
“What?”
“A paper.” He looked ahead carefully. “Folded up.”
You almost tripped over absolutely nothing.
“You found it?”
His ears were pink.
That was somehow worse.
“I didn’t mean to read it at first,” he said quickly. “I just saw your name and—”
“Oh my god.”
“I only read part of it.”
“Oh my god.”
“I’m sorry.”
You covered your face with both hands instantly.
Humiliation crashed over you in violent waves.
“I’m moving countries,” you muttered into your palms. “Immediately.”
Keonho let out a startled laugh.
“You’re not.”
“I actually am. I can’t look at you ever again.”
“That seems extreme.”
“You read it.”
“You wrote it.”
You groaned miserably.
There was a brief silence before Keonho spoke again, quieter this time.
“Was it true?”
Your hands slowly lowered.
“What?”
“The things in the letter.”
You stared at him.
His expression wasn’t teasing anymore. It was careful. Nervous, even.
Your chest tightened painfully.
“You already know the answer,” you whispered.
Keonho stopped walking.
So did you.
Traffic lights glowed softly at the end of the street, painting gold across the pavement. Wind moved gently through the trees overhead.
For a second, neither of you spoke.
Then Keonho rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and laughed under his breath.
“I’ve liked you for so long,” he admitted quietly. “I genuinely thought I was going insane reading that letter.”
Your brain completely malfunctioned.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“No, I need you to repeat it actually.”
He looked down, smiling shyly.
“I like you.”
Your heart felt too big for your ribs.
“You… like me.”
“Mhm.”
“Like-like me?”
Keonho burst out laughing.
“There’s no way you just said like-like.”
“I’m in shock.”
“You’re cute when you’re shocked.”
“That’s not helping.”
He stepped closer then.
Not enough to touch.
Just enough that your breathing became impossible.
The world suddenly felt very small around the two of you.
“You know,” he said softly, “I always wondered if you’d ever notice.”
“Notice what?”
“The way I look at you.”
Your pulse stumbled.
Because you had noticed.
That was the problem.
Every glance from him felt too warm. Too lingering.
You just never believed it could mean anything.
“You’re terrible at hiding feelings,” he continued.
You stared at him incredulously.
“I literally wrote secret letters instead of confessing.”
“Yeah, but you blush every time I get close to you.”
Your face heated instantly.
Keonho smiled triumphantly. “See?”
“You’re annoying.”
“You like me anyway.”
Unfortunately true.
—
The first time he kissed your forehead happened accidentally.
Or maybe not accidentally.
You were sitting together at the bus stop afterward, shoulders brushing lightly while sharing earbuds.
Neither of you had officially defined whatever this was yet.
But something had changed.
Everything felt softer now.
Closer.
Keonho was scrolling through songs on his phone while you rested your head briefly against his shoulder, exhaustion creeping in after the emotionally catastrophic day.
Then you felt it.
Warm lips against your forehead.
Gentle.
Quick.
Your breath caught instantly.
Keonho froze too, like he hadn’t expected himself to do it either.
When you looked up, he seemed flustered for the first time all evening.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“…why are you apologizing?”
“I don’t know.”
You stared at each other for one long second before laughing simultaneously.
The tension dissolved immediately.
Still, your heart wouldn’t calm down afterward.
Because no one had ever kissed you like that before.
Like something precious.
—
Dating Keonho happened quietly.
No dramatic confession. No official announcement.
Just gradual closeness until one day everyone around you started treating it as obvious.
He held your hand naturally now.
Texted you goodnight every evening.
Stole your hair ties and kept forgetting to return them.
Sometimes he’d lean against you during lunch break, sleepy and warm, while you pretended your heartbeat wasn’t going insane.
It felt gentle.
Easy.
Like falling asleep during long car rides.
And somehow, despite all the affection between you, the actual first kiss still hadn’t happened.
Not properly.
There had been forehead kisses. Cheek kisses. Tiny lingering pecks near the corner of your mouth that made your brain short-circuit.
But never fully.
You weren’t sure why.
Maybe both of you were nervous.
Maybe neither wanted to ruin the sweetness of waiting.
Still, the tension was definitely there.
Especially moments like this one.
“You’re staring again,” Keonho murmured from across your bedroom floor.
You snapped out of your thoughts.
He was helping you organize notes for exams, though mostly he’d been distracting you for the last hour.
“I wasn’t staring.”
“You definitely were.”
“You’re so confident for no reason.”
He grinned lazily before leaning closer.
Your stomach flipped immediately.
“You know what I think?” he said softly.
“What?”
“I think you wanna kiss me.”
You choked on air.
Keonho laughed so hard he nearly fell sideways.
“You’re evil,” you accused weakly.
“But am I wrong?”
You opened your mouth.
Closed it again.
Because unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong at all.
The room suddenly felt warmer.
Outside your window, rain tapped softly against the glass. Your lamp cast everything in honey-colored light.
Keonho’s expression softened slightly as he looked at you.
“You don’t have to be nervous with me,” he said quietly.
Your chest ached unexpectedly.
“I know.”
He reached over then, fingers brushing gently against your wrist.
The touch felt impossibly tender.
“You trust me?” he asked.
Always.
Too much.
You nodded once.
Keonho’s thumb stroked lightly across your hand before he leaned closer again, slower this time. Giving you every chance to pull away.
You could hear your own heartbeat.
Could feel his breath near yours.
Then he paused.
Foreheads touching lightly.
Warm.
Careful.
“You’re really pretty,” he whispered suddenly.
Your heart melted on the spot.
“Keonho,” you breathed.
“Mhm?”
“Kiss me before I combust.”
He laughed softly against your skin.
Then finally—
Finally—
His lips met yours.
Gentle first.
Almost hesitant.
Like he was trying to memorize the feeling instead of rushing it.
Your eyes fluttered shut instantly.
Warmth bloomed through your entire body the second he kissed you back properly, one hand lifting carefully to cup your cheek.
It wasn’t dramatic.
Wasn’t overwhelming.
Just soft and sweet and achingly sincere.
The kind of kiss that made everything else disappear quietly around it.
Keonho kissed like he cared.
Like he wanted you to feel safe.
When he pulled back slightly, your forehead stayed pressed against his.
Both of you smiling a little breathlessly.
“There,” he murmured softly.
“There?”
“Your first kiss.”
Your stomach flipped violently.
“You remembered that?”
“You told me once during lunch in ninth grade.”
You stared at him in disbelief.
“You remember things from ninth grade?”
“You’re surprised?”
Honestly, no.
That was the thing about Keonho.
He paid attention in ways that mattered.
Before you could answer, he leaned in again and pressed another kiss against your lips.
Shorter this time.
Sweeter somehow.
Then another against your cheek.
Then your forehead.
You laughed quietly, overwhelmed by affection.
“What was that for?”
“Making up for lost time.”
Your face hurt from smiling.
“You’re so cheesy.”
“And you adore me.”
Unfortunately, again, true.
Keonho brushed his thumb gently beneath your eye, gaze impossibly warm.
“I think,” he said quietly, “you’re my favorite person.”
Something in your chest folded softly around the words.
No one had ever loved you this gently before.
You leaned forward first this time, kissing him carefully once more.
He smiled against your lips.
Outside, rain continued falling softly through the evening.
Inside, wrapped in warm light and tangled feelings and the quiet sound of Keonho laughing softly between kisses, everything felt unbearably tender.
Like the beginning of something you’d keep close forever.
