Brown hues widen, lips parting ever so slightly, and his stunned expression spoke more than his clumsy tongue ever could. It humoured him so, that the collection of thoughts he desperately yearns to know belong to the one person posing as the rare exception. So to hear the confession ( and rather unexpectedly too ), nimble fingers immediately pinch at his skin, waiting for the pain to wash away the pretty dream. But the wind blew, the creak of the swings echoed around, and Cheonsa remained there, staring. This was no dream, and Kit thinks never has a moment been so sweet, never has he admired her more. With a swallow of his nerves, a shy lift of his eyes, the boy whispers, “Me too.”