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Summary
“You’re the type of boy,” Sunoo says with tender fondness, tucking a lock of hair behind Jungwon’s ear, “that would never break a pinky swear.”
Jungwon’s heart stutters. “And yet I keep loving boys who would.”
Sunoo’s smile is beautiful and earth-shatteringly familiar. That type of forlorn loveliness comes when you see hope only after you’ve already given up on life. It’s wistful and fond, and twice now in his life has it been directed at Jungwon of all people.
“I’d never break a promise if it was to you.”
Jungwon lets his lips curl upwards in response. He allows – for once in his life – to let things play out in a cheesy cliche.
“Pinky swear?”
(or: the before, during, and after of Yang Jungwon. The boy thrice born, several times loved, and never really dead. He'd say that line is a little mixed up, though. Jungwon would say he's a boy thrice born, never really loved, and several times killed. It's a matter of perspective, really.)