Changdictator

Still, it__ almost too natural to rekindle Jongin__ smile with a tiny __ello,_ and somehow the syllables are perfect on his tongue, perhaps because he__ said it a thousand times already. Perhaps because they__e meant to be.

Thick pulse and dizziness make his head light and stomach turn. He really can__ feel his fingers, or knees for that matter. But everything settles down again__lmost as if it were always meant to__hen his eyes graze a dumb grin and a pair of glittering eyes.

You sound so miserable.___ll novelists are.

Where are we__ Kyungsoo yelps as Jongin practically throws him over the window pane of a filthy-rich looking convertible, a treacherous little thing parked up against the curb, all black exteriors and plush white interiors, not even bothering to open the door, __oing?___o see fireflies,_ Jongin says muffling coughs in his sleeves, and it__ only when Kyungsoo buckles up and looks over does he realize that the boy is grinning from ear to ear, __eal ones.

There are questions Kyungsoo doesn__ ask Jongin. He doesn__ ask Jongin if they can stay together forever, or how many tomorrows are really left, because sometimes the truth is too bright. He can only hold onto the seconds, each gesture, each contact, each syllable. Jongin comes in seconds. Everything comes in seconds.If only the seconds could last long enough.