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Summary
All Jaemin wanted—truly, genuinely—was to touch Jeno.
Jeno sat there, sleeves pushed up, hair slightly messy from the day, eyes bright despite how tired he had to be. He kept rambling about the shoot, about the food they ate, about how Jaemin kept stealing his snacks. His laugh was soft and scratchy from overuse.
And Jaemin just stared.
