I casted my fishing line, brows furrowed in concentration. Once I was happy with where it landed I leaned back, kicking my feet over the ledge as I reached for a gummy worm. Hanging off a bridge wasn’t exactly the best place to go fishing, but it was a bit of a tradition for Namjoon and I to celebrate the end of the school year. We had done it since he moved away, and this year would be no different.

I smiled as soon as I saw him walking towards me, waving him over. “It took you forever,” I teased, rolling my eyes.

“I got stuck in traffic,” he shrugged, shoving the rest of his snickers in my mouth to shut me up. He dropped his tackle box, digging through it until he found some bait he liked. “How has your grandpa been?”

The sun warmed my skin and I closed my eyes, enjoying the feeling. “He’s adjusting.”

It had been two months since he was discharged to the nursing home. His therapy was almost done at this point, and he was able to walk although not very well. His gait was uneven, and it took him forever to get anywhere. Whenever he had his faculties he insisted on walking instead of the wheelchair, so we all had to get used to that.

The nursing home wasn’t as bad as I thought. We had been told he could even come home a few times a year once he was better, something my mom was already planning to use on holidays. He was less than a half hour away too, so I could visit him. My grandpa was showing less confusion with the right care and medications. He often called me before going to bed, telling me about his day or some crazy story a resident at the nursing home had got into.

“I miss him,” I admitted. He wasn’t that far away, but it was still an adjustment. He used to be a five-minute walk from my house and I could see him whenever I liked.

He placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “That’s to be expected. It’s not as bad as you imagined though, right?”

I couldn’t help but agree. I thought sending grandpa there would be like sending him to hell. Namjoon was studying me. He went to open his mouth only to close it with a sigh every time.

“What is it?” I giggled, sticking the pole between my thighs and squeezing before reaching for another gummy.

His brows furrowed, worry in his eyes. “Jungkook?”

I frowned, grabbing another candy. We hadn’t gotten back together since the last time we broke up, but that didn’t mean Jungkook had given up. I thought Jungkook didn’t care about me at all, but his actions now were showing me different. His gaze was always on me, and sometimes he still asked if we could get back together, no longer angry but tone soft when he spoke to me. That made it harder to say no every time.

Maybe Jungkook didn’t how to love someone. Maybe it was something he wanted to have but was too afraid to accept. All I knew was I couldn’t do it anymore.

“We’re not getting back together. I’m done with that chapter of my life.”

Namjoon asked me about him every time we met up. I think that he was worried I would give in, and I couldn’t blame him. I cared about Jungkook and wanted him happy, but I loved myself more. Being with him was never simple, and it hurt too much.

I smiled, looking over Namjoon and the way his skin glinted in the summer sun. His mouth was slightly open, brows skewered as he concentrated on getting a fish.

“How long have you loved me?”

He didn’t even bother to look at me. “Since we were kids.”

“No, I mean how long have you really loved me?”

He froze, slowly turning towards me to take in my expression. I kept my eyes on him, watching him as he watched me. “Since we were in middle school,” he said finally, rubbing his forehead. “Remember when we were swimming in your pond that summer after seventh grade? We were having so much fun, and I remember thinking even though I was terrified of leaving you, and you forgetting all about me, I thought it would be okay because I would always have this moment to cherish. Your smile and laughter, how you made me feel. It was then I realized it.”

I turned away a bit startled. I didn’t think he had felt that way about me for that long. I remembered the moment he was talking about very well, because shortly afterwards he had told me he was moving. I had been too caught up in my own sadness to really look at him, but thinking about it now it was written all over his face.

In every time we parted ever since.

“Would you have ever told me?” I asked.

He sho