When I was first called Yang Jungwon's best friend, it was on his eleventh birthday. At the time, we were still young and impressionable; we still didn't understand that things, especially things we care about, could change in an instant. An instant shorter than the time it took for you to blink.

Ever since that second day in the skating park, we kept promising to meet up again and again. Sometimes, we weren't able to keep that promise, but that was because our moms or sometimes, our dads, didn't want us to go every day. Nevertheless, every chance we got, we kept meeting up and even if we didn't skate, we ran around, playing different games together; until our parents eventually befriended each other, too.

After that, we didn't need to plead with them to meet up anymore. They rather wanted to meet up with each other, too, which we both considered an achievement; a victory. And eventually, by the sixth month of our friendship, we were visiting each other very often in each other's apartments. Not that our parents minded; at least their kids were finally occupied for a good long time and not pleading for something every chance they got. I wasn't exactly the type of kid to do so, but still.

When we entered the new year of school, we were placed together in the same class; no one but us was as happy as we were. The first thing Jungwon yelled as soon as we found out was, "this is the best thing that's happened to me all year!" and the glow of delight I felt that day was indescribable.

I felt like I was on top of the world—and that was also partly due to the small fact that he had hugged me out of excitement. I'd stayed frozen in his arms, not quite sure how to respond to that, until it occurred to me that the nice thing to do was to hug him right back. However, before I could, our parents, who were watching and laughing fondly at our display of affection, snapped a few pictures.

I'd heard that Jungwon's mother kept the best of that shot framed in her room, though I never asked and I didn't want to. In truth, I was too embarrassed to.

So, on Jungwon's eleventh birthday, our class was gathered around a cake at the front of the class, set on a desk, that mine and Jungwon's parents had arranged to be brought in. We weren't yet old enough to be embarrassed of singing 'happy birthday to you, Yang Jungwon~' as loud as our vocal cords allowed us to; so that was what we did.

I was among the loudest to sing; it made me happy to see Jungwon's cheeks flush with both happiness and embarrassment; to see him fighting to hold back his tears. That was a thing I found beautiful about him: he wasn't easily moved, but he cherished everything that was given to him nevertheless.

I wasn't aware at the time that one day, he'd come to take me for granted.

"Make a wish!" one of our classmates yelled.

Jungwon looked at the flickering candles for a minute or two, his brow furrowed in concentration. He muttered under his breath, no doubt going through wishes he wanted to make and weighing them against each other to see which one was more worthy of a precious birthday wish.

Eleven was an age we knew that making wishes on birthday candles wasn't really a thing that came true, but it was an age where we still wanted to believe in some magic. It was an age where we didn't realize that sometimes, even the sincerest wishes didn't last.

He seemed to decide on a wish, and he closed his eyes, mumbling under his breath, and then he leaned forward, his hands cupped around his mouth, and blew out the candles.

"What did you wish for?" more than half the class shouted.

"Birthday wishes won't come true if you tell them," a girl beside me scoffed.

"That's nonsense!" another boy retorted. "They're not actually going to come true even if he doesn't tell!"

"True," Jungwon cut in. "I'll have to make my wish come true."

"What did you wish for, then?" I asked curiously. He looked so proud of himself that I just had to know.

"That you and I stay best friends forever and ever," he said seriously, and then he gave me a bright smile. That kitten smile I had come to find endearing. The kitten smile that made something in my chest do a flip.

The class erupted into hoots and cheers. Eleven-year-olds weren't above pairing people together romantically; to them, it seems like a lot of fun. Just like it does to any of us. I remember the shouting and cheers, but while I can't recall what exactly they were yelling so ecstatically, I remember quite vividly that I just stood there and stared at him for a few minutes, surprised beyond words. I also recall that my face felt warm.

"You really mean that?" I asked, my voice as soft as the snowflakes drifting past us out the window, down to the grassy fields we used as a playground three floors below, fallen from the cloud-covered sky. "I'm your best friend?"

"Of course, strange girl," he laughed. It sounded so reminiscent of the way I had been laughing at him that day at the skating park. The park we didn't go to anymore, but the park that was the reason we found reason to see each other almost every day outside of school. "Someone as hopeless as you needs a guide, right? I'll be your guide, Yoora, and I mean it when I say I'll do it forever and always."

That, I think, was the beginning of my crush on him. His unashamed sincerity towards me that was almost childish; it was cute. If only I had known it wasn't going to last.