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Summary
Bachira is wearing a black pair of shorts that barely even poke out from the bottom of the jersey. Isagi isn’t even sure why he owns them, but that’s hardly important because the red socks he’s wearing with them go all the way up to his thighs, and—
“Well?” Bachira asks, doing a little spin. “You like it?”
Isagi can’t find any words for a long, long moment. “Yeah,” he finally manages. “Yeah, I like it.”
