“Falling in love is very real, but I used to shake my head when people talked about soul mates… Then, we met, and everything changed, the cynic has become the converted, the sceptic, an ardent zealot.” ― E.A. Bucchianeri, Brushstrokes of a Gadfly
Both of them stopped being children, but whenever Jiyong would think about their relationship, he saw them being eight or nine years old, chasing each other in the garden, playing hide-and-seek in the attics, or reading books on Seunghyun’s bed.
Jiyong was looking at the wall, he couldn’t see Seunghyun nor risk moving his head and ruining the pose, he could just hear the charcoal on the paper sketching. He felt his face getting warm and tried his best not to twitch in his nervousness.