The first time I saw you was in my first year of middle school. You were a second-year then, my senior in the school club. You had a laid-back personality, laughed a lot, and had this strange talent for making people feel at ease.

At first, I just followed you around because I wanted to be close to you, but at some point, being by your side became the most natural thing in the world. I loved laughing together, chatting for hours about nothing, and spending time playing around over the smallest things. I didn't feel the need to define what we were. I was just comfortable being with you, and I thought that was enough.

But it was only after time passed that I realized. That I had liked you for a long time. I'd get unnecessarily bothered when you talked to other guys, and I'd get annoyed for no reason when someone showed interest in you. My heart felt heavy when you cried, and whenever I hugged you and saw you eventually smile after crying for a while, I felt strangely relieved. Even so, I didn't say anything. I was afraid our current relationship might change.

The night before I enlisted, I had a drink with you. Normally, we would have just been joking around like usual, but that day, the words just came out.

"I like you."

You looked at me, flustered, and I just gave a hollow laugh.

"You don't have to answer right now. Just... wait for me until I'm discharged. Noona."

Out of all the mistakes I made while drunk—no, in my entire life—saying those words was probably the best thing I ever did.