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.

“Be careful” is the first sentence she ever says to him, spoken with a slight accent, from behind him, a feminine voice simultaneously stern and worried.

He whips his head around and comes face to face with a face that he knows he will never forget.

It is an irony: that she saves him from tripping, but he still ends up falling​​​ because of her.

A moment later, in a small artsy-looking lobby of a hi-tech music studio where they will soon be meeting other musicians, he reaches out his cold hand, hovering over her equally cold shoulder, “Wait,” he croaks, “wait…”

All over her face is a big question mark. “Yes, Park Chanyeol?”

“Thanks,” he bites his lip, awkward, nervous, “for what you did… outside… just now.”

The question mark is gone from her face and is promptly replaced by a small smile. She looks pretty like this: her cheeks flushed pink, her skin dry, lips tinted a little blue from the cold. She shakes her head, “It’s nothing.”

It probably is. Still, he stretches out his other arm, “Please take this as a small token of my gratitude,” and offers her his untouched morning dose of caffeine.

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