[selu] i should be over all the butterflies
i should be over all the butterflies
sehun/lu han; pg13; ~5800w
the a-z of their story. pretty much just brainless fluff tbh.
inspired by david levithan’s the lover’s dictionary.
affectionate, adj.
it’s the way i give you the name ‘sehunnie’ after just a few days of getting to know you, a nickname that’s stuck ever since high school. the way i pat your head fondly as you rest on my shoulder, whining for bubble tea and street food because ‘school sucks and i’m tired, hyung you’re treating today’. the way i don’t mind the warm weight of your head on my shoulder, running familiar fingers through soft hair, and think that i may be well on my way into falling in like with you.
anxiety, n.
do you know how hard it was for me to confess to you? do you know how gargantuan of a task it was for me to open my mouth just to say those four little words - ‘i like you, lu.’ i like you, as more than a friend, i like you in the way i’ve fallen in love with you, your smiles and whispers and words.
in those few seconds it took you to respond, i could feel my heart pounding in my throat, doing its own little drum solo before attempting to force its way up my oesophagus. and in those few seconds i couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only focus on the way your mouth moved to form words, could only focus on whether it was a yes or no.
attraction, n.
in any given social setting, people will always note that i am unexplainably drawn to you. a hand curling around your waist, an arm thrown carelessly over your narrow shoulders; my eyes follow you, as if i can’t bear to have you leave my sight even for a split second. it’s like you’re the sun and i’m just another mere planet drawn into your orbital pull, irresistibly drawn to you, spinning circles around you. jongin sighs and says it’s disgusting, that i’m henpecked, spellbound, a loser. i say he’s just jealous.
baffle, v.
somewhere in the beginning of our relationship you tell me, ‘i don’t understand why i said ‘yes’ when you’re just a snarky brat who never offers to share when he gets chinese takeout’. i smirk and retort - i don’t understand why i like you, really, when you’re an overgrown man-child who acts like a total zombie on english premier league days, crashing my house because it’s got cable and hogging my couch and the chips i lugged home from the supermarket that week.
and we laugh.
balance, n.
a tentative state in which all weight is spread evenly to prevent falling. and in that temporary, delicate state, i found you. at first we were touch-and-go, tentative touches and shy glances, but eventually we hit equilibrium and guess what? i’m never letting go.
cadaverous, adj.
fast forward to university, to seeing you all stressed out studying for finals. you stay up till unearthly hours of the night studying, way past the witching hours, falling into bed only when day breaks, exhausted. you refuse all meals, even when i beg you and use the hyung honorific for once, saying you’re “too busy” and “don’t have the time”. you become so fragile, so delicate, as if one squeeze from me would snap your ribcage into millions of tiny shards of ivory and cartilage. you’re already so tiny, narrow shoulders to my broad ones and tiny elfin face; i’m afraid that if i’m too careless i’ll break you.
caesura, n.
“lu?”
“hmm?”
“...nothing.” i love you, love you, love only you.
“okay, sehunnie.” i love you too.
centenarian, n.
i want us to grow old together, two old men sitting in similar rocking chairs or lying in two neighboring beds in the nursing home. wherever, whenever. i want to see your face with wrinkles and all the blemishes that come with age, because i said i would love you now and forever, in our invincible youth and in your old age, and i intend to keep that promise. even if you are four years older, we all look the same when we age.
clairvoyant, n.
that time we opened our fortune cookies and drew identical fortunes.
你最终会找到自己所希望得到的幸福与快乐, the paper read.
you’ll find the happiness you are looking for eventually, you translated, and smiled directly at me.
colloquial, adj.
“why don’t you ever call me hyung? you call minseok ‘hyung’. you call yixing ‘hyung’. you even call junmyeon ‘hyung’. so why not me?”
you laugh, dark eyes drawn into crescents and hand coming up to cover your mouth. as if you’re shy, bashful, as if you’re hiding a secret only you know about. and i want to lean in close, close until i can breathe in your gasps and devour your words, lean in close until you whisper that secret to me.
“because… i don’t see you as a hyung.” you smile, looking up until your eyes meet mine. “because we’ve already crossed that barrier between us.”
connubial, adj.
i dream that someday we’ll get married, and stay together forever. it doesn’t need to be an opulent mansion or extravagant beach villa. we could be living in a rented apartment with leaky ceilings in downtown seoul (much like we are now, actually) and every day would still be beautiful. i don’t like to think about the technicalities - who gathers up the courage to propose, what ring we’ll get, who’s going to declare us married - but i love to think about the ending, an ending where we’re both happy.
debacle, noun.
somewhere in the beginning of our relationship you told me about the worst first date you’d ever had. apparently it was with some chinese girl your parents had set you up with, saying she was pretty and demure and polite. perplexed, i asked you why it was the ‘worst first date’ when it didn’t seem so bad, when she seemed pleasant enough.
with a shudder, you replied that it wasn’t because she was malicious or nasty; it was because you realised you didn’t want to throw away your chance at true love just to please others. you didn’t want stability and constancy and pleasantries; you wanted excitement and thrill and just the littlest bit of insanity coupled with mellow sweetness and then, at the end of the day, constancy.
and i understood.
deja vu, noun.
early mornings with you are my favorite. it’s almost as if we follow a strict routine - in your transient state between sleep and wake you seem to hold on a little tighter to me, almost as if you’re afraid to let me go. i always wake up earlier, a natural reflex conditioned into me from early study sessions back in beijing, and poke you awake. my favorite thing might just be watching you transcend into consciousness - long limbs stretching out and smooth skin pulled taut over sharp hipbones, dyed strands of hair (the result of a dare from jongin) falling into your eyes as you blink them away. and even though this is a familiar sight by now and i should be used to seeing it, it’s a routine i wouldn’t mind repeating forever.
dystopian, noun.
you seem to enjoy reiterating the fact that you’re ‘manly’ because you’re sick and tired of people calling you girly. but truth is, all that fades away the moment i slide in the hunger games 2 dvd and the scene where mags dies starts playing. you bawl like a baby every single time, tears rushing down your cheeks as you sniffle quietly, throat closed tightly to prevent sobs from escaping, and i snicker quietly to myself as i hand you yet another tissue and jostle you closer into my hold.
eden, n.
heaven is a place on earth with you, and i’ve known that for as long as i’ve known you. on the soccer field, cheering as you score yet another goal. smiling fondly as you high-five minseok-hyung. watching you smile like you mean it, in those tight football shorts and knee-high socks and spiked cleats.
heaven is a place on earth with you - in the dance studio, watching you watch yourself in the mirror again and again and again, practicing those particular eight beats over and over again. as if it’s a quest for perfection only you can fulfil. watching the tiny smile appear over your face as you succeed, as you finally catch the beat. watching you continue with renewed vigor, body waves and hip thrusts so fluid they make the breath catch in my throat.
equinox, n.
spring, summer, autumn, winter - it honestly doesn’t matter what color the leaves are or how brightly the sun glares - i’d like to think that we will always be together, rain or shine. days and nights with you pass by in the blink of an eye, repetitions of the same happiness in three hundred and sixty five different permutations, and i’d like to think that we’ll last.
enviable, adj.
people always say that they’re jealous of what we have. when you hear things like that you laugh exaggeratedly, laughter lines folding like tectonic plates at the corners of your eyes, and i want - i want to brush a thumb across them, feel them crinkle under the callouses of my skin.
“why envy?” you ask, grasping my hand in yours almost absentmindedly. as if it’s a reflex action, made natural with all the years of practice. “we’ve had to work for this, you know. it hasn’t come easy.”
“but you guys always seem so in love,” the nonplussed answer arrives, accompanied with the speaker’s wide-eyed curiosity and incomprehension.
your grin stretches wide across your face now, large eyes pushed into slits because of the force of that smile. “it’s not easy to love oh sehun, you know. we’ve been together since high school and it’s insane because i know all these unflattering things about him - he’s a slob, always leaving his dirty clothes all over the floor and sprawling on my bed when he’s all sweaty and gross from dance. and it’s not to say that we don’t fight at all - we do, over the silliest things, but i guess what makes this work is the fact that we both feel this is important enough to hold on to.”
facade, n.
yixing always laughs and asks why i like you, because ‘he has eyebrows like angry bird’s and his mouth always tilts downward and he looks so goddamn grumpy all the time’. i don’t tell him about the times when you smile so bright it’s like the stars light up in your face, or the times you laugh so hard tears of mirth form in the corner of your eyes and you end up rolling about on the floor. i don’t tell him about the soft spring sunshine that lurks behind the grey storm clouds, because that’s a secret i want to keep to myself.
i’m afraid that if the world sees how beautiful you are, they’ll try to take you away from me.
finite, adj.
sometimes i wonder if your patience has a limit, wonder whether one day you’ll decide that you’re sick and tired of having to deal with an immature child four years younger, of always having to accommodate me. every time you roll your eyes, exasperated, i wonder if your patience is on the verge of running out.
flirtation, n.
throwback to university and insecurity. you don’t understand that with your tiny face, sharp chin and large eyes, you are insanely attractive. girls flock to you, cooing over how cute you are, about how good you are at soccer, and there’s even the occasional girl who’ll try to flirt with you even though practically the whole campus knows that you’re with me. and i hate it, hate seeing her bat flirtatiously at your shoulder, hate seeing her giggle all while side-eyeing you, hate seeing her ask for your number, hate seeing you entertain her. it’s silly and petty and stupid, this jealousy, but it’s something i can’t help.
you don’t understand that with your defined jawline, angular features and broad shoulders, you are insanely attractive. girls eye you from the sidelines, sighing about how handsome and cold you are, yet there’s always the odd one who’ll throw all caution to the winds and approach you even though practically the whole campus knows you’re with me. and i hate it, hate seeing her bat flirtatiously at your shoulder, hate seeing her giggle all while side-eyeing you, hate seeing her ask for your number, hate seeing you entertain her. it’s silly and petty and stupid, this jealousy, but it’s something i can’t help.
fusilade, n.
i hate it when we fight. you know the nooks and crannies of my heart, know what exactly hurts me most. what’s worse is that you don’t hesitate to use it against me in arguments, a flurry of bullets going straight through my arteries and coming out through the back, leaving bloody craters in their wake. i hate how you know my vulnerabilities and weaknesses, hate how you can destroy me with one single sentence.
glacial, adj.
your expression after a fight always scares me. thin lips pressed together in a hard line, eyes narrowed into angry slits, breathing hard through flared nostrils. you look at me with that irritated, indifferent gaze, like you could be looking at anyone, a stranger on the street you’ve never met before, a stranger you can’t possibly love.
“i’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight, hyung,” you spit out without little venom, stalking to our room to grab a single pillow and a thin blanket. we don’t say goodnight.
the bedsheets are cold without you there to warm them.
gravitate, v.
and yet sooner or later we always fall back together again, rift between us patched over even as we pick it apart saying sorry and forgive me, i was stupid and never again (even though we know the last one probably isn’t true). because we both know that what we have between us is too valuable to let go of just because of another inconsequential quarrel. six years spilling into seven and we know everything there is to know about the other - what makes you tick, what makes you smile, what gets under your nerves. this is an unfailing formula, but if you give or take two to three days, one of us inevitably caves in and swallows our pride, tentative apologies lingering in the stale air.
heart, n.
the biggest piece of me you own.
hyperbole, n.
i could say that i will love you forever and always, whichever comes last, and it wouldn’t be an exaggeration. i really think i could fall in love with the way the sun catches on your brown hair, the way your eyes twinkle when you smile at me, the way your facial muscles seem to spasm when you laugh, over and over again.
illusory, adj.
my first impression of you was that you were fragile, way too delicate for me. the way i almost knocked you over as i lost my balance trying to reach for the book on the top shelf. the way you had (still have) to look up at me. the way your eyelashes flicker against your skin when you blink, barely touching the skin of your face before flitting back up again. i didn’t know anything about you and your spiked cleats and your euphoria on the football pitch, about that sharp-toothed, fierce grin you displayed when you scored a goal.
my first impression of you was that you were sharp, unapproachable, all hard angles and crystal glaciers. that you were too far, too distant for me to ever dream of touching. you have that effect on people, you know, with your angry eyes and dismissive glance and downward tilt to your mouth. but then you smiled shyly and it was as if the ice had melted, the clouds had faded and the murky waters disappeared, leaving me staring down at water so clear i could see right through to the bottom.
infatuation, n.
everyone used to think it was just a crush, just a silly high school relationship that would never progress beyond puppy love. junmyeon-hyung once said, eyes soft and voice cautious, that you need to be careful, sehun-ah, this could end as easily as it started. but look where we are now - high school, university, moving into our own apartment, the years rushing by in the blink of an eye.
it’s scientifically proven that a crush only lasts for four months, but we’ve already been together for six years. i guess it just comes naturally when things fall into place.
innuendo, n.
i find it adorable how you’re so shy. despite your impassive face, i could be whispering lewd things into your ear and you’d turn red in approximately 0.28371 seconds, whining hyuuuung, stop, you’re embarrassing me all while burying your face in your hands in a futile attempt to hide your blush.
jaded, adj.
before i met you i didn’t believe in love. it’s a trope, i muttered begrudgingly as i walked yet another blissful couple tread by, floating on clouds. it’s nothing but a cliched overused boring trope, made popular by brainless romantic comedies and fanatical hopes of teenage girls. that’s all there is to it.
and then you crashed into my world, spinning head over heels like a fool, and in the midst of my ramblings about cliches and lies i had to stop and bite my tongue.
kamikaze, n.
you tell me about kris one night when we’re both huddled up under the covers, when the silence of the night holds a certain promise that whatever is said now will never be brought up in the daylight. you tell me about how you loved him, big hands and sincere smiles and raspy voice, about how he stole your heart with dumb gestures so unexpectedly sweet. but then your voice catches in your throat and you steamroll on about how he left, about how he broke you, about how it took a long time for the pieces to coagulate back together to form something that loosely resembled the original.
i don’t want to rush into this headfirst, you murmur. i like you, sehunnie, but i don’t want to fall headfirst without any idea of where the bottom is. i don’t want to become yet another casualty.
will you wait for me?
even though my heart dips a bit when you don’t say you love me (because i’ve said the same words to you countless times and got nothing in return) the answer was yes. the answer is still yes. the answer will probably always be yes.
kinetic, adj.
“i love you,” you mumble one day as i’m fiddling with the television remote, trying to find a channel that interests me. it’s so mundane, the movement ordinary and common, but something about your words makes me think i’ll remember.
“i don’t think i heard you the first time, lu,” i tease, even as my heart swells in my chest and i catch a breath.
“you did, brat,” you grumble, but repeat yourself this time looking me straight in the eye. “i love you, sehunnie, i really do. and i’m sorry it took me so long to say it -”
you get cut off halfway through your dramatic little monologue, me tackling you in a huge embrace, laughing like a fool as you thrash around in my hold and demand to be set free (‘get off me, sehun, you’re heavy’), but you’re laughing as i pepper your face with butterfly kisses and i think that yeah, this is okay.
knight, n.
everyone says you’re four years too young for me, but they don’t know how you treat me like a true gentleman. it’s the small things, really, such as when you hold the door open and let me exit first, the way you wordlessly carried my books for me in university in addition to your own, the way you fight me for the bill when we go out to eat.
labyrinth, n.
i find it so easy to get lost in thoughts of you - how cute you look when you yawn, how you actively seek out cuddles when you’re sleepy, how you coo at babies you see and (if you’re feeling brave) poke their cheeks. and every time i get lost in that maze of thoughts about you, it gets harder and harder to find the exit.
linger, v.
every time we kiss, the taste of you remains in my mouth. acrid and smoky, filling my lungs with unhealthy billows so addictive i never want to stop. crushed lungs and corroded windpipes and the feeling of your lips on mine, fading so slowly it feels like an integral part of me.
manacle, n.
society acts like our jailer sometimes, always so disapproving and disdainful. it’s so constricting, having to conform to how people think we should act, to how we should be. and even though i understand the rationale behind your actions, it always hurts a little when you take my hand behind closed doors, then drop it like it’ll burn you the moment we step outside.
masquerade, n.
meeting your parents felt like layering on mask upon mask, concealing our true thoughts and desires so well i wondered if there was any bit of me left.
“umma, meet luhan-hyung. he’s my… friend.” you hesitate as you try to find the right words, fidgeting uncomfortably as you lie through your teeth.
“hello, luhan-sshi,” your mother smiles kindly, patting my face with a weathered hand. my answering smile feels more like a grimace.
meld, v.
but all that falls away when we tumble into bed at night, limbs wrapped fiercely around each other’s, almost as if we’re afraid to let go. when that happens, i feel less of an individual and more of a single half of an entity, stitched together seamlessly without a loose thread anywhere to be seen. and in that sacred space between ourselves, i can hear your heart beating, hear the steady rhythm of your inhales and exhales; if i listen hard enough i can even hear the sound of your dreaming.
nadir, n.
i think the lowest point of my life was when my father died - mother called, despite the exorbitant overseas phone fees and crappy reception, and when i heard her crackling voice mumbling words i couldn’t comprehend i just broke down.
“我会努力尽快回来北京的。妈, 对不起。我很想你。我很想爸。” (i’ll try my best to return to beijing as soon as possible. mum, i’m sorry. i miss you a lot. i miss dad.)” i whisper as i grip the phone so tight my knuckles blanch.
her curt reply makes me feel even worse. “别为你自己添麻烦了，已经太迟了。“ (don’t bother. it’s too late.)
the resounding ‘click’ on the other end makes me rush to the bathroom to throw up, you following hurriedly behind without having understood any part of the conversation, rubbing my back soothingly as i attempt to expel my heart through my mouth, tears and saliva mingling.
nostalgic, adj.
“do you ever miss high school?” you ask out of the blue one day, a stick of pepero dangling from the corner of your mouth.
“do i miss being the transfer student who was only there on a scholarship?” i answer, pretending to think about it before scampering over to nip at the biscuit dangling tantalisingly from the corner of your mouth. “nah, not really.”
“but we began in high school.” you muse even as you bite down and give me half the stick, not seeming to have heard my answer. “the teacher introduced you on the first day of school, and i remember thinking you were so pretty, so ethereal. i’m quite sure i developed a crush on you that very day, and i was always asking jongin about ways i could befriend you. in fact, i’m quite sure liking you was one of the only things i can recall about my high school days.”
all attempts to steal your pepero cease as i glance at you, startled. “you were the first person to approach me in high school and my first friend, sehunnie. that’s what i recall - laughing at teachers, going out for ddeokbokki after night study, basketball games during break. do you remember those?”
“yeah.” that single word is breathed out quietly. “i never forgot. you were my most precious memory.”
oblique, adj.
throwback to our youth: sidelong glances and shy smiles, cautious offerings of earpieces like “hey lu, i made a new playlist yesterday, want to hear it?”
yet when i take the proffered earbud, all i hear are love songs. i look over at you, smiling that shy smile, and wonder if there’s a secret message encoded between the lyrics pouring into my ears.
pacifist, n.
“when we have our own kid…” you begin, head pillowed on my lap and my fingers weaving through your hair. “i don’t think i want to hit him. him or her, whatever. i don’t think i’ll go with corporal punishment.”
it’s a game, this dreaming and wishing and wanting, so i play along. “okay. but let’s say he’s a hyperactive little devil like you, what’re you gonna do?”
without missing a beat, you continue. “i’d probably scold him? talk to him firmly, maybe, tell him what’s right and what’s wrong. but you just don’t hit kids, sehunnie. i don’t believe in that.”
“alright,” i lean down to kiss your forehead, lips curving against your skin. “then we won’t.”
qualitative, adj.
at the end of the day, i don’t think it matters how long we’ve been together. we’re nearing the end of our sixth year and cruising smoothly into our seventh, but we could’ve been together for six months, weeks, days and i would still treasure each and every one of them. eventually, time starts to become inconsequential, and the only thing that remains of value is you.
return, n.
everyone always says that in a relationship, there is bound to be one party that loves more than the other. i’ve never understood that line of thinking - don’t we all love in our own ways? how then, can we judge? i’m not the most expressive lover - four years younger, four years more foolish, four years more inexperienced and naive - but i love you, i swear i do, in the ashes of my bones and recesses of my heart. and yet every time i voice out my questions, you laugh fondly and tell me i’m being silly, that i’m overthinking things, because ‘we’re equal and always have been’.
and maybe that’s okay, because it’s your way of saying that i am okay, that i am enough for you. for this.
rune, n.
once you wrote a letter to your mother as i peeked over your shoulder, cradling you carefully in my lap as you balanced the pad of paper on your knees. i see the chinese characters, written in a style so similar to hangul, yet the ability to comprehend them seems to exist in an entirely different universe altogether.
i don’t ask why you keep trying despite the lack of a reply; this is merely your eleventh letter and i know you will send countless more before you give up. yet i see the lines of fatigue in your face and the despondence in your eyes; i want nothing more than to kiss it away, to heal it better, but i know these are the kinds of scars that don’t fade easy.
“teach me chinese someday, lu?” i venture cautiously, resting my head on your shoulder as i tighten my grip around your waist.
“maybe,” you smile weakly before it disappears. i notice how it doesn’t reach your eyes - your body language is another ancient linguistic, but difference is it’s one i’m taking the initiative to teach myself, day by day.
sacrosanct, adj.
growing up as a young boy, my mother always told me that marriage was sacred, and should be treated as such. as for this relationship, i can only see two endings - either we break up and let go of something we’ll never find again, or we agree to spend the rest of our lives with each other and get married.
i think i know which one we’ll settle for, i smile to myself as i walk out of the jewellery store, fingers wrapped around the tiny velvet box in my coat pocket.
when i reach home, i hide the box in my sock drawer and pray you don’t run out of clean laundry any time soon.
steadfast, adj.
ours is not a dramatic, extravagant kind of love. we don’t shower each other with gifts or public affection, have never been particularly inclined towards cheesy declarations of love. we do not love with the passion of a thousand burning suns - we are made more from the stars and moon, calm and gentle and tranquil, yet still shining bright in their own way. we love quietly, the kind of affection and care that only comes with time and familiarity, but that doesn’t mean we discount it as fading.
temptation, n.
you have this strange habit of brushing your teeth immediately after you get out from the shower, towel wrapped loosely around your waist as you scrub toothpaste into already-white teeth. i always like to sprawl in bed and admire you, your broad shoulders and small waist and the way the muscles in your forearm ripple lightly as you raise the mug to your mouth. every time i witness that sight i have the urge to pull hard and undo the knot around your waist, letting the rough cotton pool in waves around your feet.
transparent, adj.
i’m so bad at lying it’s hilarious. that’s why, i get back from a day of teaching at the dance studio jongin runs and see you holding up that box, my mind blanks out and i lose track of the moment. i end up spluttering ‘hi hyung where’d you find that, you weren’t supposed to see it till i got my speech ready - oh shit’ but then you laugh, smiling fondly at me and this time my mind goes blank for an entirely different reason, caught up in the prettiness of your smile.
figuring there’s no time like the present (and the secret’s already out), i take the box from you gently and get down on one knee. it’s not perfect because we’re at home and the ceiling leaks sometimes and the carpet looks kind of dirty, but all that fades away when i look into your eyes and see the same person i fell in love with six years ago.
this time, i’m wearing my heart on my sleeve and it’s exclusively yours to claim.
ultimatum, n.
say yes. you are pleading with me to say yes, wide eyes on bended knee and craned neck, tentative downward tilt to your mouth and shallow breaths. what you don’t know, however, is that i couldn’t visualise any other ending for us from the start.
i take a deep breath, and give you my answer.
uncharted, adj. / vocal, adj.
the first time you make love to me is also the first time either of us has done something remotely sexual. i’ve always maintained that i want to wait until marriage, and you’ve respected that through and through even though all your friends may have goaded and teased you. but now you’re pulling these sounds, these moans and whimpers and groans, from the depths of my throat as you move against me, hard ridges of muscle and solid hipbones, the warmth of your body something unfamiliar but not unpleasant, and i forget coherent thought as yet another whine pushes past my lips.
wish, n.
make a wish, your eyes twinkle and you nudge me as we walk past a wishing well.
but i can’t think of anything to wish for, i answer honestly. i’ve got you, and for me that’s enough.
xoxo, abbr.
when you start signing off your texts with those ‘x’s and ‘o’s, i laugh for a good five minutes before sending one back. and signing off with my own ‘x’s and ‘o’s - because if we’re going to be stupid, might as well be stupid together.
yesteryear, n.
we’ve grown up, leaving behind the insecurities and fears that used to plague us when we were younger. now, resting my head on your firm chest and listening to your deep voice rumble as you tell me about your day, i think about the boys we were and the men we have grown into. we’ve had more than a thousand yesterdays; i can only hope we will have as many tomorrows.
zenith, n.
you were my first love. you are also my last love. the day we got married was one of the best days; every other day following that will surely be as good. and maybe this closes a chapter but starts another, every page that follows getting better and better.
i love you / 我爱你。
fin.
+ lmao wha - nvm
+ this was sitting in my gdocs since december last year, i got to the letter 'y' and stopped for almost a year. procrastination at its finest
+ end of year exams in 19 days and im writing fic. wHY
+ ps im sorry for the changing povs and occasional skips in timeline.... i hope it wasn't too confusing ;u; oh and i hope the ending wasn't too rushed either, idk
+ title from paramore's still into you ;; i love paramore