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Summary
The kiss tasted like fear, longing, and twenty years of swallowed words.
Taejoon froze. For a heartbeat, he didn’t even breathe, his mind struggling to process the sensation of Youngwoo’s lips against his own. He had spent the last few minutes bracing for a blow, a cold turn of the shoulder, a scathing laugh, or worse, the silent walk toward the car that would lead Youngwoo to Jo. He felt entirely, utterly unworthy of this.