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Summary
The old temple is alive once more, covered in vibrant colours but also in softer shades. Red, white and gold. And brown. Brown eyes that hold the world, that can freeze it and burn it. Chan did not believe in the Gods but perhaps he does now because Minho is his God, walking towards him in the humming silence of the wind that Chan is so familiar with. Maybe the Gods do exist, maybe Minho is one of them, or maybe the Gods follow Minho’s footsteps, muffled by the red carpet that lays on the floor.