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Summary
It keeps coming back to this.
To Chan, to Jisung, to the shitty bar on the corner of their old street, a block away from the apartment they used to share.
Chan doesn’t even drink that much, which is the part that always makes Jisung laugh when he spots him slip in through the creaky door, eyes held low like he doesn’t know exactly where Jisung will be.
The same corner, the same beer that tastes a little like stale piss, and the same guy that Jisung will regret again in the morning.