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Summary
“I just don’t know if I’m quite that important,” Minho whispers.
Jisung still hasn’t looked away. “I think you’re that important." There's a long, long stretch of silence. “That’s not wrong, is it?”
Minho stands there, rooted to the ground with his heart lodged in his mouth. Jisung is so pretty like this, with his lips parted and his eyes bright and searching as shadows wax and wane across his face. “I don’t know,” he finally breathes. “Is it?”