It's utterly unfair for Mo Ran to look the way he does when he smiles and be aware of it. Chu Wanning's heart trips and falls in his dimples every time, the way his long eyelashes frame the peculiar hue of his eyes and it would be a lie saying he doesn't like when they're on him. He's tempted to play right in his palm, when he receives this kind of attention, and it terrifies him.
He's a ridiculous, disgusting old man, for staring at that smile and wishing he could have it for himself, wishing Mo Ran could like him, even a little bit. He's so tired of all this antagonizing —but he perfectly knows it's just because of his terribly stubborn, unlovable personality. Mo Ran surely wishes he would've been different and Chu Wanning too, wishes he could've been someone worthy of his pupil's affection.
He stiffens and huffs from his nose, like it's unbecoming for a young man to try and coax others the way Mo Ran is doing it. "Don't play around, Mo Weiyu." He scolds him, but, as it often happens with Chu Wanning, the edge of his words doesn't carry over to his actions. Standing behind him, he bends forward to wrap his hand around Mo Ran's again, crowding him without realizing. His chest hovers the other's back without touching it, his ponytail slips forward and may tickle his student.
He leads his hand again, this time awfully aware of the heat coming off Mo Ran's body, as always the two of them on opposite ends of the spectrum. He holds him for longer this time —when have Mo Ran's hands become this big, that it's difficult for his own to enwrap it completely?—, enough to draw a string of characters, until the flowing, rather than dragging, quality of the motion has hopefully become clearer to him. His ponytail must graze against the other's ear when he straightens up again. "There. Focus." He's proud of himself for sounding as stern as always and not as breathless as he feels.
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He's a ridiculous, disgusting old man, for staring at that smile and wishing he could have it for himself, wishing Mo Ran could like him, even a little bit. He's so tired of all this antagonizing —but he perfectly knows it's just because of his terribly stubborn, unlovable personality. Mo Ran surely wishes he would've been different and Chu Wanning too, wishes he could've been someone worthy of his pupil's affection.
He stiffens and huffs from his nose, like it's unbecoming for a young man to try and coax others the way Mo Ran is doing it. "Don't play around, Mo Weiyu." He scolds him, but, as it often happens with Chu Wanning, the edge of his words doesn't carry over to his actions. Standing behind him, he bends forward to wrap his hand around Mo Ran's again, crowding him without realizing. His chest hovers the other's back without touching it, his ponytail slips forward and may tickle his student.
He leads his hand again, this time awfully aware of the heat coming off Mo Ran's body, as always the two of them on opposite ends of the spectrum. He holds him for longer this time —when have Mo Ran's hands become this big, that it's difficult for his own to enwrap it completely?—, enough to draw a string of characters, until the flowing, rather than dragging, quality of the motion has hopefully become clearer to him. His ponytail must graze against the other's ear when he straightens up again. "There. Focus." He's proud of himself for sounding as stern as always and not as breathless as he feels.