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Summary
Maybe he’s crazy, but it’s hard not to be when Felix gets so close, like now. When he’s standing right there in front of him, pale hair blowing in the wind, eyebrows pinched together in concentration, pretty lips parted.
Felix brings out a tissue, balled up in his tiny hand, and titles his head to the side. Okay? his eyes ask. Jeongin manages to nod, glad he doesn’t have to say anything.
[Or: That one moment during NYC day 2, and the night that follows]
