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Summary
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbled, a clear shift in his demeanor that San picked up on immediately.
“I’m sorry for asking, I didn’t mean to–”
“Do you want to dance, San?”
Wooyoung turned to face him, sure that the ache was visible in his eyes. His plea for an escape evident in the way his lips began to tremble and he looked at San like he was his only hope. He wanted to forget, and he hoped like all hell this stranger might just do the trick.