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Summary
The worst part about it is that every time Minho looks at Taemin the first thing he will taste is his own blood. The first thing he smells is always hayfever and magnolias. Even when Taemin is placing a small palm against Minho's broad chest, all Minho can hear is wind rushing past his ears. The unforgiving heat of the sun on his back, the sharp acridness of time, not enough time, never enough time.
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