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Summary
Mingyu would crack open his ribcage, cut into his skin, pull out his veins—if someone wanted it from him. He would give it to them, and he would smile as they bruise and leave his body to bleed—because at least he wasn’t selfish. At least he could tell himself, they love what you give. They love that you don’t ask for anything else.
Healing, wanting, unlearning, and loving.
