✧*･.Terrible Things .*:･ﾟJunhao

.1.

There is always a point in time where we believed that love is the most wonderful thing in the world.

I am in our school's almost-always-barren library. I like the serenity and the solitude. It comforts me. I hold a book in my hand as I sit contentedly in a wooden chair near the very back of the air conditioned room where no one goes but me. No one ever treads this deep in the library, not even the librarians. Still, I pretend to read a random book just for show in the rare occurrence that some poor lost fellow wanders in, asks where the fiction section is, thanks me, and wanders back out. That hasn't happened in three months though.

However, just now, a poor lost fellow wanders in. He looks like a freshman-- just three years younger-- and has platinum blond hair with purple highlights. I suddenly feel a bit insecure of my own long brown hair. I smile immediately, hoping the cycle of wandering in, asking about the fiction section, thanking and wandering out ends here as I would love to spend a few more minutes with this cutie. Maybe sneak in my phone number. Maybe sneak in his. Maybe ask him out on a date.

His pretty brown eyes meet mine. I smile charmingly, a smile no one can resist. He smiles back shyly.

"Excuse me, where are the dictionaries?" he asks, clipped and stiff, as if he is speaking a language that isn't his own. I notice a thick accent as well. He isn't Korean. My smile grows wider, automatically finding him more adorable.

I point in the general direction of the dictionaries, and he follows my finger. "That way," I say. He nods and bows respectfully. "Thank you."

Just before he takes a step, I halt him. "Wait."

"What?" he turns and asks. His eyes grow a bit wide, as if fearing something. I assume it's because of the possibility of not understanding foreign words. I would know. I've been in his shoes.

"You're not Korean, right?" I ask, confidence evident in my voice. He blinks. "Yes... how...?"

I laugh at his cute response. "The way you speak. You have an accent. Where are you from?" I question as his cheeks colour a light pink.

"I'm Chinese."

My mouth forms an 'o' at this favourable coincidence. "Really? I'm Chinese too!" I put down my book, not caring for it now. I immediately switch to my native language. "This is so cool."

The boy exhales a sigh of relief and plops down on the seat across from me. I feel my heart flip happily. "It's so comforting to hear someone speak in Chinese. My head has been hurting from translating and digging around for vocabularies," he rambles in Chinese. I chuckle. That shy boy is now talking a mile a minute. I silently thank my ancestors for settling down in China.

"But," I grin as I speak the word. His own smile falters at the sudden switch to Korean. "you're in Korea now, right? You need to learn how to live here, and that includes mastering the language."

He scratches his head and pouts. God, I can't handle him! "I hate that you're right," he says, deflated. He pushes his chair back, as if to leave. "I-I'll get going now, then. To the dictionaries."

"Wait!" I hate the amount of begging that laces with the word. He looks towards me, hope and unreleased joy swimming in his eyes. "I can be your temporary Korean tutor, if you'd like?"

"Yes! I'd like that." His grin lights up the isolated corner of the library, save for only us.

As we sit smiling and talking, the whole world seems to be on my side. All the years of misfortune, I think, all lead to this moment where fate took a little misstep and everything followed. When no one used to visit my little sanctuary, this lost boy did. When there was no one like me in the whole school, this fellow Chinese transferee showed up. When nothing seemed interesting for me, he changed that just with a single sentence. For once, I feel like the world became slightly more wonderful.

For the rest of the break, I learn that he's actually older than he looks. His name is Seo Myungho, and he's a junior. His parents are the opposite of strict, hence the multicoloured hair. I now have his phone number in my phone and will be sending him a friend request on Facebook when I get home. I smile to myself.

I walk him to his next class on the other side of the building. I'm well-aware that the senior classrooms are right beside the library, but I can't care less at this moment. His presence is just so warm and comfortable that I want to be beside him for as long as I can.

We stop at the top of the staircase. He turns and faces me. "Well, this is my stop. Thanks for walking me, hyung."

"It's nothing. I'm glad I got to spend the break with you. Things get a bit dull in the library by myself," I say with honesty. I hear the bell ring, and Myungho hears it too. We both stay put as the rule-abiding students all around us rush to their classrooms.

Amidst the rush, amidst the noise, Myungho speaks, "Then don't spend it by yourself anymore."

And I never did after that. He meets me in the library every day. We talk and laugh until someone hushes us or the bell interrupts our conversations. When the latter happens, we run to his classroom on the other side of the building. Sometimes we stumble and laugh, sometimes we just enjoy the breeze on our skins, and other times he drags me by the hand because he has a test that he might be late for. I enjoy those other times particularly because of the sparks that climb up my arm from our intertwined fingers. I never did mention that I'm always late to the period after the break because I walk him to his classroom all the time. I don't mind though. I like his windswept hair, and the sound of his laugh is like music to my ears.