May 21st, 2014. 11:24PM.

They’re walking up the stairs to the tallest ride in the park, when Chen notices that something was off.

She looked nervous, agitated, even. Her eyelids flutter more frequently, and her hand, the one in his, was getting colder. Her face was paler, and she kept adjusting her clothes.

Was she afraid of heights?

When Chen poses this question, she smiles sheepishly and nods.

“Do you not like the Carnival!?!? If I’d known, we could’ve gone somewhere else!”

But she shakes her head vehemently and replies,

“No! I love the Carnival!”

(Dubiously) “How can you love the Carnival if you’re scared of heights?!”

(Softly, almost a mutter)

“I’m afraid of heights, but I’m in love with falling.”

And Chen couldn’t help but feel that the statement applied to much, much more than just heights.

May 22nd, 2014. 11:45PM.

The ride was cranking its way to the top, and with each jerk forward, her heart flew out of her chest and onto her lips.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god Chen-oppa.”

And she buries her face into the sweater of the boy who was sitting next to her. Offhandedly, she notes that he smelt like rain and dry lightning. The kind of lightning that splits a summer night in half with no cloud in sight. The kind that proceeds a downpour. The kind that gives no warning before bringing calamity.

But she wouldn’t be herself if she didn’t love boys all wr