Jongin never dreams.

Nobody else knows this, but she is the one who shaves his head, standard buzz cut, after shower, midnight goodbyes and ugly tears.

In which Sehun encourages Hayi to grow white carnations with him, in which Hayi does not have the heart to tell him, “Sehun, but Mother Earth and SM Entertainment do not exactly go hand in hand.”

This is how he falls in love with her. The sun is muted by winter blues and gray clouds that hang low near his sleepy head. He treads on a thin sheet of slippery ice, a cup of steaming vanilla latte in his frozen fist, and almost loses his footing.

The cold truth is, sons will never win against their fathers. Seokjin cannot promise Jisoo an easy, simple love, but he vows to make her son happy and free.

She’s— a denim jacket with tiny colorful patches stitched all over— a pastel pink, mini tennis skirt— a Fjallraven backpack in the same shade. He knows he’s seen those white mono boots on a Dr. Martens web store last week.

Sungjae wants to marry at a young age, he wants to have kids at a young age. “Oppa…” Sooyoung sadly smiles. “Please be careful what you wish for.”

He sets his heart on her, she sets him on fire. “With your pretty red lips, please hurry, kill me and go.” – Taeyang, “Eyes, Nose, Lips”

At sixteen he kissed some lips, at sixteen she kissed some tar—and her pain away.      

Don’t live fast. Don’t die young. Don’t leave a good-looking corpse. Please.       (A pre-debut Henry/CL.)

In which she ditched the idea of being independent, and bruised her ribs with him.

In their world of immense pressure and hectic schedule, getting to know each other seemed to be a good idea—it had a hopeful likelihood to be a fun activity to kill the time—except maybe it would not be so fun anymore once she stripped off her sweater and let him see all of her flaws and all of her wounds.