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Summary
“You took one of my flowers.” His voice is soft, fingers tracing the edge of a petal. “You cannot go back. You belong t-”
His fingers still, and a look passes over his face. Donghyuck can’t place that look.
Mark gently curls Donghyuck’s fingers over the flower again. “You belong here now,” he says, gaze finally resting back on Donghyuck’s face and it’s kind.