#sunnoir

        simply put, simba was never good at anything romantic. he had cold hands, never warming enough to offer any comfort to whoever he had become infatuated with at the moment, and, after a while, he found that his heart was the same. girls who yearned for affection, boys who yearned for sweet nothigs -- he couldn't satisfy any of them. his words were too stumbling, limbs too awkward to conjure up the butterflies in any of his partners' stomachs.

        min seonhye seemed different from the beginning. looking back, simba thinks that he never saw her without a smile plastered over pink lips -- and then he thinks that that's why he fell for her. the man who never seemed to smile and the girl who never seemed to frown. if he was any inch more superstitious, he would have named it fate.

        he didn't approach her for a while; simply put, he didn't know how. the chance only arose due to his failing mandarin, really, and the other girl's seemingly overflowing will to help.

        "... ni hao," he forced out as part of the teacher's plan to get students to communicate. he got a small smile, and then a flurry of words that he couldn't quite register. nodding slowly, eyelashes patting his cheeks a few times, he tried to subtly pull out his book from on his lap. he was caught, though, but not even to his surprise.

        however, what was to his surprise was how the girl reached over, warm fingers wrapped around kyungsoo's much cooler hand. sucking in a short exhale of shock, his eyes flickered from place to place until settling on the girl's own hues, a shy smile lingering on his lips.

        ... years later, as they sit by the fire, simba thanks his lucky stars that he was always terrible at mandarin.