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Summary
The sound of Dolly Parton’s voice pleading for Jolene not to take her man was the soundtrack as Changbin pulled Hyunjin close and kissed him a little like the third time. Not the first time, because that had been more a collision of noses as a newly thirteen and freshly thrown away Hyunjin—in the privacy of Changbin’s teenage bedroom that no longer existed—had dove in and pushed his mouth on a pimple-faced, properly startled Changbin. The second had been when they were both convinced they were about to die, a harsh press of lips mashed against teeth, tasting like tears and soot and blood. The third kiss had been their sweetest yet, and this one could never rival it, but that was okay, because this one was sweet, too, and perfect in its own way.
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