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Summary
Their first kiss had tasted like one of Martin's spring nosebleeds and a shared pack of spearmint gum, Tom Waits' low growl skipping on a burned CD. Juhoon had thought it'd be their last with how hard Martin laughed after, shy and a bit manic, like he'd just told a bad joke. The kiss itself was fine and not one of Juhoon's worst. The second one followed only a couple minutes after. Then the third.
After the fourth, Martin finally stopped laughing.
