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Summary
Gansey made the softest little noise as Adam ghosted cool fingers across the marks, somewhere between a whimper and a sigh.
Something fleeting and fragile stirred in Adam’s chest. Gansey. That was Gansey. A boy born on a marble pedestal with a cool look in his eye, now with mussed hair and swollen lips, his cheeks and chin slick with Blue, his lowered eyelids thin-skinned lavender.
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Everyone gangs up on Gansey.