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    Summary

    “You can touch me, no one is stopping you,” still combing Soobin’s hair, he mumbled, his words followed by trembling hands on his back, his arms, his neck, his face. Soobin let his palms wander, digits tracing muscles, touch feather-light and so, so lazy as Soobin’s tears progressively stopped, sobs dying down. Yeonjun shivered under his hands, arms weakening when a thumb remade the contour of his lips. He sighed and leaned down, mouth inches away from Soobin’s. His eyes said so much at the single moment, so many words Yeonjun didn’t need to hear to understand. And the unsaid always hurt less, he had learned the worst way.

    Language:
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